PassFail
by Descartre
Summary: After meeting the antisocial but hyper-intelligent Gabriel Gray at college, Claire finds that he has a secret, and as it would turn out; so does she. Slightly AU. *Disclaimer: I do not own heroes*
1. Freshman

Working on this (my second story) for awhile. I started to miss Gabriel and decided to bring him back without compromising my other plot.

Enjoy and review please; I'd like to know how this one is being received. If someone likes it, I'll write more.

* * *

Claire Bennet waited anxiously in the library at Stanford. Her first week as a college student had not gone so swimmingly as she had hoped. Sure she had made the cheerleading squad, and the red color of the uniform complimented her just as well as the one she wore at Costa Verde High had, but things were different now.

No longer did the poor excuse for athletics serve to gain her a place of comfort and belonging among her peers. Claire had never been considered an unintelligent sort of girl by anyone who actually knew her, but her choices in extracurricular activities certainly did nothing to fight against the typical dumb blonde cheerleader stereotype.

As it so happened, Claire was already having family troubles. Her biological grandmother and father were pushing her to study art in Paris. "A suiting major and career choice for a beautiful young woman," they had told her. Clearly they didn't know her as well as they thought they did; art was the last thing on her mind.

Still Claire wanted to stay close to home in Costa Verde. She wasn't fond of the idea of leaving the family that she had grown up with behind to travel abroad. Claire grew out of the wanting to "get away" stage at a younger age than most.

Claire's adoptive father worked for the government, and since she was a child it had been perfectly clear to her that she was made out of exactly the right material to work for the CIA. It was Claire's dream for herself.

Even with her well-bred connections through both her adoptive and biological parents, college was a necessary prerequisite to any goal she desired to reach, and she'd be damned before she joined the military as was alternately suggested to her, or God forbid even went on to raise championship show dogs like her adoptive mother Sandra Bennet.

No, Claire was cut out for much more than that. Unfortunately the pressures of college proved to be much more tiresome than she had hoped, and already she was beginning to fall behind with her load of coursework.

So Claire had decided to heed her father's advice and take advantage of the on-campus tutoring Stanford offered to its students. After all, Claire wasn't exactly abject to meeting new people; maybe her tutor would even be a total babe; she hoped for the best.

Claire whipped her pocket watch out yet again and checked the time; her tutor should be there within ten minutes, though she expected to give him at least a fifteen minute window. She lacked the cheerleader attitude that should have came with the uniform; unlike most nineteen year old girls, Claire Bennet was not under the impression that the world revolved around her; far from it.

Claire looked around for something to do while she waited for her tutor to make his appearance. Unfortunately for time-management, she found her books to be laid out in front of her in a neat stack next to a row of already perfectly sharpened pencils. Claire didn't fully trust herself to be exactly on time just yet. If she were to try such a thing, surely she would be late. So she made it a habit to be early; it was boring, but it worked for her.

She huffed slightly and sat back in her chair; resigning to admire her grandfather's pocket watch as she sat and waited patiently. She was very fond of the watch; her father had given it to her the day he told her she was adopted. On that day she found out that she was the illegitimate daughter of Senator Nathan Petrelli and a woman quite like herself; her mother Meredith whom he had met in his earlier days.

Claire was a young little thing at the time, but out of the box of belongings she had received upon the discovery; it was the watch that had stood out the most to her. The worn design on the back of the trinket was faded with age, but still held the memory of the man who had made it back in the 1800's. According to the face, Sylar was the name of its maker.

As she dangled the watch from its gold chain, Claire mused about how well-loved it must have been. Meredith had kept it on her person at all times as she traveled across Europe. Claire had even heard that she had her own circus act at a time; she supposed that's where her strange antics came from.

Freak Claire… too smart for cheerleading, and too wealthy and blonde for anything else. Her place in life really revealed what was important to most people, and all she had was time; it never seemed to pass quickly. Claire was about to put the watch away out of frustration when she felt a presence behind her.

"That's a beautiful watch you have there," a man's honey-filled voice drew out behind her. Claire's heart skipped a beat at the sound. "May I see it for a moment?" he asked her. Claire frowned then and turned toward the source of the question. A tall and lank-bodied man wearing thick rimmed glasses and a considerably gauche sweater stood behind her. Upon taking in his appearance, and finding him to be lacking in her eyes; Claire immediately chastised herself for being so vain. If his shy smile was anything to go by, he seemed like a pretty good guy. "You seem really nice," she told him, "It's just that I don't know you…" she left off as he finished the sentence for her.

"And that watch is very valuable to you," his smile faded slightly in disappointment as he sat down across from her. "It's ok, if I were you," he placed an odd amount of emphasis on that last word before continuing, "I probably wouldn't have given it to me either." He placed his books down on the table in front of him as he began to diffidently explain his interest. "I collect and restore timepieces," he said, and then looked at her with earnest eyes that didn't match the tone of his voice, "I can fix it for you," he told her.

Claire frowned, feeling slightly offended that he had assumed her watch would not work properly; that she was using it just for show. Her appearance probably did little to dissuade him from his hastily reached conclusion.

"My watch isn't broken," she regarded him defensively.

"Oh but it is," her new table buddy objected. "Not tragically, its running two seconds fast," he added with a sweet smile that reached his eyes this time.

"Maybe I'll ask you to fix it another time," she returned the smile to him; feeling slightly ashamed that she had in fact, been the one jumping to conclusions. "How did you know?" she asked him curiously.

"Just a talent I have," he gained a far away look, "for the way things work." Having lost his attention for the moment, Claire glanced around her, checking for signs of the tutor she was supposed to be meeting.

"Hey," she spoke softly, "I'm really sorry, but I'm supposed to be meeting someone here very soon."

"And you need me to get out of his seat," he finished for her with a half sad, have angry expression; obviously he had assumed she was just trying to get rid of him. After all, he wasn't exactly the best of company; though he certainly wouldn't say he was the worst.

"Don't worry about it," he told her gravely; honestly it did nothing to relieve her guilt. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here too; tutoring them actually." His voice was cold as he gathered his things and started to stand. Something occurred to Claire though.

"Wait, your name isn't Gabriel is it?" she asked him warily.

"Yes," he looked at her as he spoke the single word with a guarded expression, as if to wordlessly tell her that she had no business knowing his name since he hadn't told it to her. Claire tried to lighten the mood and gave him her best smile; following up with a clever line.

"Well it looks like you're in the right place after all," she explained her question vaguely. "I'm Claire Bennet; your tutee."

"Ah," Gabriel put his things down for the second time in the same exact place, looking for all the world as if he couldn't be more inconvenienced. Regardless he continued to walk around the table. "Well Claire," he almost sneered, "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," and held out a deceptively strong hand for her to shake, she cagily returned the hand shake but remained ready to make a hasty escape; he did not seem at all pleased to meet her. "Gabriel Gray," the harshly given name drew her away from her observation as she flinched; he didn't seem to notice.

Claire grew a little paler as she watched him clean the offered appendage with a sanitary wipe and retreated to the other side of the table to take a seat. "So what do you want to work on Claire?" he looked at her indifferently, clearly still offended at how she had asked him to leave.

"I um… don't really know how these things go," she admitted, "freshman and all."

"Right," it donned on him as he mentally acknowledged his error; the poor guy looked ready to beat himself up if she asked it of him; an obvious perfectionist. "Well usually we start by introducing ourselves, but seeing as we've already done that; why don't you tell me what classes you are taking this term?"

"Oh right, um… "Dramatic Lit, Poetry, Calculus, Spanish II, General Chem, and General Biology."

"Science courses huh?" He gave her a doubtful look which she was offended by.

"Hey…" she started, "aren't you supposed to be nice to me," she questioned in a teasing voice. Claire was still desperately trying to salvage the situation she found herself in.

"Sorry," he replied unapologetically, "I just would never have pegged you for a science kind of girl," he was being honest, and Claire was willing to give him a little bit of credit for that. "So I'm assuming that's what you need help with the most," he assumed as he sat back in his chair and stretched out his arms. Gabriel then removed a thick stack of science journals from his bag.

Claire couldn't believe the gall of this guy; she'd never met anyone so rude, and judging by the casual way with which he carried on, he clearly wasn't even aware of his atrociously bad manners. Claire didn't bother correcting him as he continued to set up a workspace for himself; she'd make him put it all away later anyway.

"So," Gabriel sighed as he nonchalantly went about his business, "any idea of what you want to be when you grow up Claire?" She instantly recognized the hit he was taking on her, and came back swinging with a crude retort to make him uncomfortable.

"I am grown up Gabriel… very grown up," she adjusted her top and leaned back a little for show, "and that's a complicated question for me," she added. Gabriel blanched at her display; either unappreciative of her efforts, or too prude to reveal his true reaction.

"How so?" he asked suspiciously; underestimating Claire's complexity.

"Well actually, I want to be a geneticist," she explained, "But… seeing as it's not really an established field yet, I'll probably end up working for the government like my dad… well dads."

"I see…" he dropped off, and his eyes glazed over a bit. Claire decided that after he had run out of things to talk about, this man had some minor social problems. It wouldn't have surprised her to learn that he had memorized the opening of their conversation as part of a well-prepared speech; even then, it was poorly delivered.

"So what do you think you need to work on?" he asked awkwardly between clearing his throat.

"Honestly?" she asked him.

"Obviously."

Claire cringed at the tone he used; her question word was obviously rhetorical, this guy must have learned how to speak English from a text book. She had started to get the feeling that he was somewhat annoyed by her to say the very least. 'Can you saay mood swings?' she asked herself mentally.

"Alright then. English," she finally answered.

"Good. We'll start there." He didn't look like he thought that was good at all as he snapped her textbook open and a loose sheet of paper fell out onto the table. "Is this the assignment?" he asked her impatiently. Claire hoped it was just her, but he seemed in a hurry to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

The rest of the hour proceeded to drag on as they continued their awkward and noticeably strained verbal exchanges. He did help, that she had to admit, and she was grateful for that, but when their time was up; he hardly bade her farewell. Gabriel merely helped her gather her things and swept off; leaving her with only a better understanding of The Canterbury Tales, and the date and time of the next tutoring session he would be available for.

* * *

When Claire got back to her dorm room that night, she was grateful that she had not yet been placed with a roommate, because all she wanted to do was break down and cry; and so she did. Several questions ran through her head at once, not the least of them being, 'what is so repulsive about me?' Claire got up to fix her makeup in the mirror and choked back a heavy sob as she looked upon her reflection's red and puffy eyes. Through her tears she had somehow managed to dress herself well enough for dinner with her father Noah; she had hoped he would have some kind words for her as she snatched up her purse and exited the small room.

* * *

Claire was grateful to find her dad waiting for her at their usual table when she arrived at the Indian restaurant they frequented. She didn't want to have more alone time to mull over the events that had taken place during her day. Her father was always prompt when it came to their meetings, and she appreciated the security in that.

"Hey Claire-bear," he got up from his seat and gave her a warm hug; it was a much more intimate and comfortable version of what Gabriel had done when he introduced himself. Claire blocked the intruding thought from her mind before it could grow any more elaborate; she would not let her night be ruined _him_ of all people. Gabriel Gray was a man who was neither attractive nor socially adept; he was flat out rude. Though honestly, his behavior shouldn't have mattered to her as much as it seemed to.

"So Claire, tell your dad," her father interrupted her thoughts. "How was school?" Claire put on the usual act that all children were supposed to utilize when they needed to dodge further questioning from their parents.

"Oh you know... It was ok. It was school." She gave him her best fake smile. They both knew she couldn't fool Noah Bennet, but as her dad; he knew when and when not to ask her more about things. For now he spared Claire the pain of sharing the gory details and said nothing more about it.

"So dad, tell your Claire," she quipped in her peppiest voice the moment would allow her to summon, "how was work?" Noah humored his daughter.

"Oh you know... it was ok, it was work."

"Aaand?" she pushed him to continue. Anything was better than being quiet and alone with her thoughts for the evening.

"Aaand it's top secret kiddo, full of secret stuff that I'll tell you about when you're older," he joked with her and gave her a wink. Claire and her father were both aware that his comment was not entirely in good humor though; it had implications like most things in life. Claire's father fully expected her to follow in his footsteps doing whatever it was that he did. He seemed truly happy with his life though, with his family, and his coworkers.

Claire pictured herself in a well-fitted suit and horn-rimmed glasses just like the ones she had picked out for her dad when she was a kid. He had worn the same frames ever since; she was really fond of them actually. Those glasses made him look like her dad. That is what she told him when he first tried them on; not a dad, but her dad; she had decided.

Claire picked at her Baingan Bhartha unaware of her father's watchful gaze until he spoke. Do you want to talk about it honey?" he asked her. Claire gave him her most convincing innocent and questioning look in return, but after a few seconds of his resolved stare; the facade crumbled and her face sunk into a frown.

"You can come home anytime you like Claire... if you aren't read."

"No school's fine," she informed him hollowly.

"What is it then?" he inquired.

"Well..."

"Is it a boy?" he asked knowingly.

"Yeah." Claire exhaled loudly.

"I knew it; tell me all about him," Noah looked at her earnestly; excited to hear about the new development in his daughter's life. Noah really was a good father when he wasn't working; it was just a pity for his family that such didn't happen more often.

"Not in that way," Claire started, but then reconsidered her statement. "My tutor... I can't shake the feeling that he kind of... hates me?" She turned the end of her sentence into a question; hoping her father had any kind of answer for her.

"I'm sure that's not it Claire," her father gave her a reproving look as he tried to cheer her up, "everybody likes you. You're beautiful, and smart, and you're the nicest girl I know," he told her with a smile. "Best of all; you're Claire."

"Thanks dad," her returned smile quickly faded, she couldn't shake the sick feeling in her stomach. "But dad... you didn't see the way he looked at me," she insisted.

"I trust your instincts Claire, but you have to consider the possibility that maybe he was just shy, or even intimidated by you." Claire didn't think it very likely that Gabriel would be intimidated by her. He seemed awfully self-assured, but her dad might have been right; maybe he was just shy.

"Yeah," Claire chose an escape from the conversation topic, "are we really talking boys?" she teased.

"Not if you aren't interested in him, "Noah grinned at his daughter, "which you told me you most certainly were not." Her father's way of cleverly mocking her did wonders to cheer her up as usual.

"Thanks," she told him; feeling a little better about herself for the time being. Claire had settled it; she wouldn't let this man bother her. She was going to learn all she could from him, and then forget all about Gabriel Gray.

* * *

A few days after her first tutoring session, Claire arrived at the Stanford library for another one; at the same exact place and time. Gabriel Gray must be a creature of habit; she decided, and wondered if the insight would be of any assistance to her later. She was surprised however to see that Gabriel was waiting for her with a crestfallen expression; his face barely visible through the thick fall of hair that hung forward loosely. Claire instantly became concerned, despite his obvious distaste for her. Regardless she strolled up to him at once and placed a hand on the table near his, not touching it though, she remembered the way he had reacted last time they had made physical contact, and it had yet to stop making her feel awful. Still her inherent kindness showed through as she inquired about him, "Gabriel, are you ok?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly without raising his head. He withdrew his hands and pulled them into his lap. Claire could have sworn she heard his voice break as he made a weak attempt to convince her he was fine.

"You can talk to me about it," she told him gently, and leaned over the table so that their faces were level.

"What would you know about it?" he spat angrily. Claire drew back a little bit, but remained relentless in her quest to help him open up.

Claire had always cared for everyone. It's probably how she was able to tolerate her high school best friend Jackie. Claire was one of the few people who had cried at her funeral; the poor girl had been murdered at homecoming, right in front of Claire's eyes. She knew a little something about pain if she was being completely forthcoming. Claire still woke up in cold sweats with the memory of that night. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder the doctors had called it.

"More than you would think," she finally replied a little brokenly. Gabriel actually looked up at that; his eyes were red from crying and he wasn't as put together as he had been the last time they had met. Still he saw something in Claire's eyes at that moment, and it helped him to accept her being there.

Claire maternally removed his glasses for him and wiped them clean on the corner of her blouse. Gabriel didn't object to her assistance this time as he stressedly ran his hands through his dark locks; further ruffling the untidy mess of hair. Claire handed back his glasses as he opened his mouth to speak.

"It's my mother," Gabriel explained, "she was attacked this morning in her apartment."

"Is she..." Claire left off, not knowing if she was prying too much.

"No," he replied in a horrified voice as he shook his head with derision, "but she might..." his own voice failed him. "She's in critical condition right now. They have her on life support." Fresh tears started to gather in his eyes at that last statement.

"Oh Gabriel," Claire fought back the urge to embrace him; sure that he would not appreciate the gesture. "I'm so sorry," she told him.

"No, I'm sorry Claire... I don't mean to drag you into this. I hardly even know you." Claire grew confused at that statement. Gabriel folded into himself as if she were going to hit him; he prepared to ask her something, "Will you come with me to the hospital?" When Claire didn't respond immediately, he looked at her hopefully, and the expression nearly broke her heart. Claire was hesitant though, and the breath caught in her throat. "Please Claire..." he tried again, "I just can't be alone right now, and I don't really have anyone else to ask." It occurred to her that he probably didn't have many friends; he was the sort of person who wouldn't even know why people didn't like him.

"Of course I will Gabriel," she obliged, "it looks like I have an open night anyway."

"Thank you," he told her, and for the first time he looked as though he actually meant what he said.

* * *

Tbc.


	2. Mezcal

Here it is... Chapter 2

Might be a strong T, or weak M.

I haven't changed Gabriel's character completely, I promise. Alcohol makes people do stupid things though, and it felt right. Too much too soon?

There is much more to come; as far as the plot goes, I haven't even gotten started yet. There will probably be as many twists as the show has (or so I hope).

I fixed the line overlaps that I missed in chapter 1, thank you for letting me know anonymous reviewer!

Also a thank you for all who reviewed, you saved it from being another "Tbc?" I'd reply individually but I'm worried that you would not look too kindly upon my filling your inboxes with praise.

Enjoy (:

* * *

Claire sat in awkward silence as her and Gabriel waited in the hospital lobby. She had no idea why she had even agreed to come along with him; the entire time they had been there, he had hardly said a word to her. Claire supposed she just felt bad for him.

But maybe, just maybe she saw something in his moment of honesty that excused his tactless behavior. Claire was a sucker for honesty; she was one in constant pursuit of the truth, and for as much as she loved her dad, she couldn't stand the way he kept so many secrets from her.

Strange things had been happening close to home in the recent months. Mysterious deaths and murders were seemingly everywhere at once. Claire had not exactly ignored them before, but this time she was curious; this time it wasn't just her life that had gone awry.

First it was Jackie, and now Gabriel's mother. She was bewildered as to why anyone would bear so much ill will toward these perceptibly innocent people. True Jackie might not have been the easiest person to get along with, but her overbearing personality surely did not warrant this… this monstrosity of an event. Claire idly wondered what Gabriel's mother was like.

The killer's targets seemed to be random to the blind eye, but Claire was suspicious. She had tried to ask her father for more information on the matter, but he merely told her that they didn't have anything to do with her, and that he wasn't at liberty to discuss the matter. Claire knew otherwise though, that she was somehow involved. Point of fact, Claire had only narrowly escaped death herself on homecoming night. The murderer seemed to have set eyes on her, even if he did settle for Jackie.

Claire hadn't fled as her friend was caught in the clutches of death, she watched with eyes that demanded vengeance. Claire would have traded places with Jackie if she could; for a friend she would do almost anything, though before she could convince the killer to take her life instead; it was too late. Jackie had begged Claire to run and save herself; it figured that the first time she showed compassion for any person besides herself, she was about to die.

Perhaps the worst part was that her friend's life ended in excruciating pain. The killer had not merely attacked her; he had cut off the top of her head. Ever since that night, Claire vowed to hold every person she met in higher respect than herself. The fact that it should have been her never escaped her mind, and still it woke her up in the middle of the night; the echo of Jackie's screams piercing violating her subconscious.

Claire scanned the room for anyone who could give them an update on Gabriel's mother. The two college students had been waiting for at least two hours and had yet to receive any news on Virginia's status. Her eyes fell upon Gabriel. The poor guy was a mess; his usually pale skin had taken on a color much closer to green.

"Are you ok?" she leaned over to quietly ask Gabriel.

From what little Claire had determined about Gabriel's personality, he didn't seem the type to let just anyone know what he was feeling, and she respected his wishes for discretion. If it was as he said before, and he didn't really have friends; then he probably wouldn't feel that there was reason for any persons not directly involved to know about the situation. Upon considering her question, Gabriel inhaled deeply as he brushed back his hair with his fingertips.

"I've been better," he replied. Then recognizing that he had let on too much, added "I'm a little tired."

Claire nodded slowly. She needed to get up and stretch her legs a bit; to get away. "Do you want me to get some coffee?" she asked him.

"No. Stay!" his words leapt forward with urgency, but almost instantaneously Gabriel withdrew into himself again; not seeing Claire's deer in the headlights expression.

"Alright," she finally appended her statement when she managed to catch a firmer grasp on things, "I'm not going anywhere."

He visibly relaxed at that statement. Claire had no idea what to do; Gabriel still wasn't talking, and the only attention they had received since they checked in was coming from all of the bored male employees who were busy casting looks of appreciation at Claire.

A particularly handsome doctor actually stopped in his tracks when he walked by, and turned around to approach her. "Is there anything I can do for you miss?" he asked with more than just a hint of suggestion. Gabriel tensed upon realizing the man's obvious play. However Claire being her usual self, was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and took the opportunity to try and get some information out of him.

"Ah yes, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about a patient who was admitted this morning," she smiled sweetly. "Her name is Virginia Gray." The doctor mistook her kind approach for flirtation, and doubled his efforts to charm her; clearly not seeing Gabriel as a threat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he frowned insincerely, "I'm not familiar with that name. She must not be one of my patients." He jotted down something on the back of a business card that he pulled out of his front pocket. Claire caught what he was doing that time, and blinked; not knowing what to say to the noticeably older man. "Anyway, here's my private number if you need anything… else. Please. Don't hesitate to call." He smiled crookedly and gave her a look.

At that Gabriel leapt up from his place next to Claire and nearly growled at the doctor for his coarse behavior. The man looked as though he wanted to run, but stood his ground and tried to appear confident for Claire.

"Do you make it a habit to come on to emotionally fragile teenage girls?" Gabriel seethed as he backed the man up against the wall.

He merely gaped at him in return and began to stutter slightly, "No… no I just…"

Gabriel cut him off when he picked the man up by the lapels and slammed him into the wall. "I suggest you leave," he nearly threw him down the hall when he roughly released him.

The doctor managed a short "thank you," and hastily made his exit without a backward glance at Claire. Even after he left though, Gabriel remained facing the wall; his shoulders were tense and his back rigid. Claire was genuinely worried about him; she had never seen anyone act like that.

"Gabriel?" she called weakly. His stiff position remained absolute, so she got up from her chair to stand next to him. "Gabriel?" she tried again with a little more clarity. His eyebrows were furrowed when he tilted his head slightly toward her. Claire immediately took a step back when she saw his murderous expression. There was not an ounce of recognition in his eyes, and that scared her. Gabriel looked positively dangerous.

Claire was resolute; she had to bring Gabriel back before anyone got hurt. It might not have been the best idea, but she decided it was well worth the effort. She ripped the card she had been given in half and threw it over her shoulder. "Come walk with me," she told him, and turned to walk away. She wasn't leaving any room for argument.

Claire didn't look back, but instead waited to hear his footsteps fall behind her. When she heard none, she stopped and glanced around; only to find Gabriel standing right behind her. Her heart gave a start when she realized he must have been there the whole time.

'Ok!' she thought, 'that was weird.' She shook her head in disbelief but continued to make her way down the labyrinth of industrial and sanitized white hallways.

Claire opened up a somewhat hidden door with access to the roof; it occurred to her that she had spent a lot of time at that particular hospital. It was the one Jackie had been admitted to during Homecoming. His silence allowed Claire to think as they ascended several flights of concrete stairs. When they reached the top landing, Claire led him outside.

* * *

The view was breathtaking. Claire sighed as she approached the half wall near the side of the roof, and leaned over the edge. She turned around to give Gabriel a sad smile before she spoke. "I used to come up here when I needed time alone," she said. Then she looked at him meaningfully, "When I wanted things to just… stop."

Gabriel didn't say anything in return; instead he moved to join her at the edge. The clear night air did nothing to stop the chill that blew over the top of the hospital; Claire shivered.

"You're cold," Gabriel's tone was somber, but Claire was simply happy that he was speaking again; even if he still seemed a bit lost in his dark side. She turned toward him to deny his observation, and saw that he was already removing his jacket. "I'm fine," she insisted meekly as she tried to stop shivering, but Gabriel wasn't listening; he thrust the garment at her and looked away.

Claire would have found it odd how uncomfortable Gabriel was with the gentlemanly manners he was adamant about using, but it actually suited him and his personality. Claire carefully pulled her arms through the sleeves of Gabriel's jacket; she was grateful for the extra layer as she had been regretting not having time to grab a heavier jacket from her room. The loose garment actually hung on her though, and for the first time; Claire actually noticed that Gabriel wasn't as slight as she had initially thought him to be.

Gabriel looked at her then, and she became momentarily lost in his eyes; they were the most lovely shade of brown she had ever seen, almost gold even. Before she could get too carried away with her assessment, Claire tried to thank the man next to her, but instead was compelled to say the first thing she could think of.

"Beautiful…" Claire blurted out, still staring at him.

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow at her random statement.

"Oh!" Claire exclaimed, realizing what she had just said. She hastily scrambled for an explanation or at the very least a cover-up. "Um… the sky," she started nervously, "It's a beautiful night out isn't it?"

Gabriel gave her another critical look and just shook his head. "I've been thinking about something," he told her. "How exactly does one become you, Claire Bennet?"

Claire turned bright red, "I imagine in the same way any other person would." Her reply didn't come out nearly as confident as she had intended; Claire was still reeling from mistakenly telling him that he was beautiful.

"I don't believe you." Claire looked up at him, unable to place his tone, but his expression was equally vacant.

"Sorry…" she murmured. She didn't know what else to say to him at that point. So he spoke for her.

"You're not like the others Claire. You're different. You're… special." Claire kept her eyes on his face; waiting for a sign that could give her a clue as to what he could possibly mean by that. Gabriel looked almost hungry; like she had something that he wanted.

"Oh," she simply replied, unaware of whether or not he had meant to compliment her. "Well what makes one Gabriel Gray?" she asked.

"I might tell you some other time; not now." His tone held a sense of finality, but Claire refused to let the ball drop then. Who knew how much longer they would be waiting.

"Ok then… why don't you tell me about your mother?" she prompted.

Gabriel's expression darkened, "The last time we spoke… we got into a fight." Claire realized the insinuations that would be made about him if that kind of information was given to the police.

"May I ask about what?" she questioned him further.

"She wants me to do more; to be more." He looked at her and added, "To be special."

"I think you're special too Gabriel…"

"You don't even know me," he snorted derisively.

"Then I guess it's pretty obvious." Claire nervously wound her hands together and stared at them, "and hey… thanks for before."

"What do you mean before?" He asked while he turned to gaze out toward the stars again.

"For… you know, defending my honor."

"I take care of what's mine."

Claire froze, 'Woah woah woah, stop right there,' she thought. 'His?'

"Yours," She repeated questioningly; hoping she had heard him wrong.

"You are my friend right?"

"Well…" Was she? She guessed that they were having a moment. Though the hospital wasn't exactly an ideal bonding site, she supposed that's where a lot of relationships started. "Yeah," she decided, and then restated her declaration with more conviction, "Yeah I guess I am."

* * *

Claire woke up in the lobby again, still snuggled in Gabriel's jacket. 'It smells nice,' she thought. Unfortunately her rousing was decidedly unpleasant. The hallway was alive with noise as the hospital staff ran around wildly.

Claire looked up in horror when she caught what they were saying, "the woman in room 236 went into cardiac arrest, she didn't' make it." '236' was the number of the room Virginia was in. "Time of death?" The severe-looking doctor asked; the nurse handed him a clipboard, "It's all there," she told him.

Claire immediately turned, ready to comfort Gabriel if necessary, but much to her surprise; she found him sleeping soundly. He must have been exhausted; Gabriel looked so innocent and peaceful when he was asleep; it was something she hadn't seen in him before. Claire hated to wake him, but she knew he wouldn't forgive her if she didn't at least attempt to wake him.

"Gabriel," she whispered in his ear. He groaned a little bit and nestled into a more comfortable position. "Gabriel you need to wake up now," she said a little louder. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked when he found her so close to him.

"Claire?" he asked, "What is it?"

"Your mother…" before she could finish, the doctor approached them. He took off his glasses and wearily looked at Gabriel, "I'm sorry Mr. Gray, but your mother didn't make it." He handed a slightly stunned Gabriel a thick stack of papers. "I'll need you to fill out some paperwork." Gabriel's eyes grew hard as the doctor turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry," Claire tried, and reached out hand to comfort him; debating on whether it would be appropriate to touch him or not.

"I'm fine," he told her, but his tone betrayed the words.

Claire made her decision. She took the papers from him and enveloped him in a warm hug; he stiffened for a moment, but then broke down and buried his face in her neck. "No one's left to love me Claire," he breathed. Gabriel was close to tears. "She's gone, because she didn't love me anymore." Claire didn't understand what he meant by that; he was babbling incoherently. "I didn't mean it Claire."

"Shh…" she gave in return and held him. "It's going to be alright, I'm here," she reassured him and held him tighter in the awkward embrace. "I'm here Gabriel."

They stayed like that for awhile a long while as Claire did her best to comfort him. Her eyes were wide as she gazed over his shoulder and allowed the intimidating man who had seemed so intimidating to her cry on her shoulder.

* * *

While Claire was driving back toward campus, Gabriel asked her to stop at probably the shadiest bar they had seen on the route. Claire did as he asked, but looked at him oddly. "You drink?" she asked with surprise.

"Never before tonight."

"You do realize I can't drink… right?"

"Sure you can," he insisted.

"Ok…"

"Do you really think a place like this would turn a girl like you down?" he explained as if she were missing the obvious.

"Oh." Claire thought about it, and he was right. She pocketed her keys and followed Gabriel through the front door.

A few people stared at Claire and Gabriel; clearly they were the odd ones out in this group. Most people however, couldn't be bothered to look up from their private conversations or their glasses; whichever they thought to be more suitable company at the time.

"So Claire, what can I get you?" asked Gabriel. He put his arm around her, obviously making his claim evident to everyone else; neither of them wanted a repeat of the last night.

"Hmm…" she pondered his question. "Well I've always wanted to have 'whatever's on tap,'" she told him, her face was uncertain, but Claire was nevertheless satisfied with her thoughtful answer.

"Beer?" Gabriel blatantly laughed at her. "Come on Claire! It's your first time at a bar. Live a little!"

Claire felt the need to redeem herself, and idea struck her. "Alright big boy," she started, "Why don't you get a bottle of tequila, worm in, and a couple of shot glasses?"

Gabriel made a face, "Worm in?" he checked with her.

"You heard me." He still looked hesitant, but gave her a crafty smile when he caught that she was challenging him. Gabriel Gray wasn't one to let some tiny little girl beat him at anything, especially at a drinking contest.

"Ah what the hell, It's college right?" he ceded.

Claire gave him a flirtatious look and ran a single finger down the front of his shirt, following the path of the vertical opening. Then she smiled and pushed him away, "Alright! Off with you then. I'll be waiting." Gabriel took a moment to gather his wits, and inhaled deeply before turning to walk toward the bar.

When Claire found a table in a dark corner, she smiled to herself. Her thoughts were wound around how sexy and spontaneous it was for Gabriel to think of a thing like bringing her to a grimy dive so they could drown their sorrows together.

True it wasn't a conventional date, but she appreciated the imagination that went into it. Also, she couldn't deny that Gabriel looked good when he was all scruffy and freshly woken up.

At first Claire had thought that Gabriel was just an awkward albeit overgrown little boy, but with the two days worth of stubble that suited his deceptively dark demeanor, and his apparent sense of impulsiveness; she was seeing him in a completely different light.

Claire was startled when a dirty bottle of mezcal was slammed down on the table in front of her. Gabriel carelessly poured them both shots, spilling a little around the edges. The strong scent of the alcohol wafted around them; it smelled like freedom.

"This isn't Tequila," Claire noted when she examined the label.

"No it's not. It's mezcal," he smiled at her slyly. "Tequila doesn't have 'the worm.'"

Claire covered up her moment of embarrassment, "I was testing you," she remarked, and chose a glass while Gabriel sat down across from her. "To…? To what?" she asked.

"Arriba, abajo, a la derecha, izquierda y pa´dentro," he offered.

"I have no idea what you just said to me," Claire gaped at his flawless execution of the foreign language.

"I'm still your tutor," he told her, "Up, down, right, left, and in," he explained.

"Arriba, abajo, a la derecha, izquierda y pa´dentro," she agreed and deftly pounded back the liquor. She watched as Gabriel choked a little on his; it was almost cute.

* * *

It wasn't long before they had downed half the bottle. The bitter, smoky flavor of the mezcal was welcome to Claire; she was at that point absolutely resolved to feel the effects. Still though, she figured that she must have an amazing tolerance, because she felt fine really.

Gabriel on the other hand, had only then stopped gagging when he took his turn; that probably had something to do with the fact that he was well on his way to being completely shit-faced.

Claire's suspicions were proven correct when he nearly threw himself over the table to tuck her hair behind an ear, and missed. Claire was stunned, it was the first time he had taken the initiative to touch her. She probably would have appreciated it more if he wasn't so drunk.

"Beautiful," Gabriel slurred; his face was only inches from hers. "Claire! You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met; with your eyes, and this… this hair… I think I love you," he said happily.

Claire just laughed, "Alright," she said, "I think you have had enough." At this rate she was going to get second-hand intoxication and embarrassment from Gabriel alone. Claire pushed him back into his chair, and he almost fell on the floor. Claire's laugh grew louder.

"No!" he protested loudly after he had managed to steady himself somewhat on the table. Gabriel picked up the bottle and swish around the contents, a little bit splashed out onto his hand, "We're not done!" He brought his face lower so he could take a look at the bottom of the bottle. Claire was hysterical.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked between gasps. He tutted her, "Claire, language. Our friend here needs to be handled delicately!" He tapped on the glass as if the tiny little worm was a goldfish.

"I think he's dead Gabriel." He frowned at that. "Come on, give me the bottle," she ordered, "You've had too much already."

"Nooo!" he yelled loudly, causing everyone in the bar to look their direction. Claire suddenly found herself grateful for the relative privacy of the corner she had chosen. She shushed Gabriel.

"No Clairrre," her name was hopelessly muddled, but it still sounded like the most beautiful song she had ever heard. "I made a commitment! I have to get that worm." Claire giggled at that as he shook the bottle around again, the worm flopped limply against the side. She decided to help him out; Claire grabbed the bottle from him and took a few long pulls.

"Mmm… that was hot Claire," Gabriel growled as his eyes followed the stream of mezcal that had escaped the bottle and ran down between her breasts. They both burst into fresh bouts of laughter as Claire poured them two more shots.

"Ok," she said, "We'll get to the bottom!" Then she gave him a serious look that could sober anyone up a few notches, "but I'm totally maintaining the right to cut you off."

Gabriel held her look and managed to keep a straight face for a few long moments before bursting into an uncontrolled fit of laughter and giggling. The unusual high-pitch of it made him sound like he had genuinely gone of the deep end.

* * *

By time they had gotten to the bottom of the bottle, Gabriel could no longer do anything on his own. He gazed at the near empty bottle longingly, and tried to snatch it off the table; he knocked it over a few times before finally getting a grasp on the neck.

Claire watched him in amusement when Gabriel tried to pick the worm out of the bottle without turning it upside down. Clearly he was too far gone to notice that his hand wouldn't fit past the neck. "Claire…" he groaned huskily, "Claire help me!" The sound sent shivers down her spine; she was actually worried that she would end up taking advantage of him in his drunken state.

Claire reached to take the bottle from him, but his grip tightened at the perceived assault upon his efforts, so she slapped his hands away and took it regardless. It was only a few seconds before she pulled the dead worm out and poured their last shots. Gabriel was a hilarious and good-humored drunk, but his IQ must have been cut at least by half.

"You got it Claire!" Gabriel praised her as if she had just finished a triathlon. "Now feed it to me."

"Haha… like a bird?" she laughed at him.

"Now you're getting the picture. Come on! Do iiit!" he demanded and leaned back across the table; his mouth was hanging slack and he made an ahh sound. Claire slowly lowered the tiny pink larvae into his mouth and immediately followed up by dumping his last shot into his mouth to wash the slimy little thing down. Gabriel gagged as he forced it down and tried to stand up in triumph; forgetting that his legs were wrapped around the backward chair.

Claire nearly forgot to catch him as she cracked up into hysterics at his over-zealous display. Of course Gabriel wouldn't know how to drink a bottle of mezcal the right way; but she had to give him points for creativity.

* * *

Gabriel was nearly slung across her back as Claire led him back up to her room. He had made a weak attempt to give Claire directions to his apartment, but his efforts failed miserably besides. After his stunted swallowing of half the bottle, Gabriel couldn't even walk on his own, let alone actually complete a sentence.

Somehow Claire had managed to get him into her bed though; she figured she would just watch some television or maybe even do some studying while her tutor slept in her bed. She laughed at the implications such a statement would have if spoken aloud. Unfortunately for all senses of propriety; when Claire had started to remove the outer layers of Gabriel's clothing for him, he pulled her down on the bed with him so that he could hold her body against his own.

Claire concluded that he either had no idea where he was and what he was doing, or that he wasn't nearly as drunk as she had initially thought him to be. Gabriel pressed his hips into her backside and snuggled closer into her neck like she was a full length pillow. Claire would have thought it was more pleasant if he was actually half aware of his actions. "Gabriel…" she started to protest and made an attempt to remove herself from him.

"Mmm… Claire," he groaned lazily in return; the vibrations of his deep voice sent a fresh wave of heat toward her loins. She flushed, clearly in his half-conscious state, he enjoyed her much more than when he was sober. "You're still here," he murmured against her skin and brought her closer, winding his arms around her waist.

"Of course I'm still here," she told him in desperate exasperation. "This is my bed!"

"Are we going to sleep together?" He asked and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Claire was shocked and offended that he would even ask.

"No Gabriel!" she exclaimed, but didn't move from her position. She had taken off his liquor soaked shirt before, and his broad naked chest did little to dissuade her from her current placement on the bed with him. Boy was she wrong before. Gabriel was all man underneath the awful clothing that hid his body; all hard muscles and smooth skin.

Despite her state of comfort, Claire was still angry with him; she opted to remind him why he was there in the first place before she fell asleep and forgot all about it. "You're only here because you were too drunk to tell me how to find your apartment."

"Oh…" he breathed, and in the usual way that drunken people overreacted to criticism, started to apologize. "I'm sorry Claire…" he murmured in a tone that pleaded for acceptance, still his hands stroked the skin on her waist where he had pushed up her top slightly; Gabriel was a misleadingly hands-on kind of guy. "Claire… God you're so perfect." He paused for a moment, "why won't you sleep with me Claire?" he whined. His husky half-asleep voice made the question sound like the most seductive thing she had ever heard.

It took a lot of self-convincing for Claire not to take him up on the offer as she felt the full-hard size of him pressing insistently against the apex of her thighs through the thin fabric of the underwear she had left him in. He was so warm, hot even, and Claire was starting to sweat. She shrugged off her sweater and was forced to wriggle against him, still caught in the tight circle of his arms.

Claire froze when Gabriel let out another long moan before he flipped her over on her back and hungrily descended upon her mouth. Claire thought he tasted wonderful when he slipped his tongue deep inside her mouth; the spice of the mescal still lingered on his soft lips.

There was nothing gentle about Gabriel's kiss; he was proud and insistent when he wound his hands through her hair and released her mouth. Claire gasped, she was panting as she felt Gabriel splay kisses from her neck to the tops of her breasts. When the fabric of her shirt prevented him from touching her the way he wanted though, Gabriel growled again and ever so slowly pulled the thin straps of her tank top down her shoulders.

Claire hardly had the opportunity to think when a last errant thought pushed itself to the front of her mind. Gabriel had been under the impression that she was in the middle of undressing herself when she removed her sweater. She stopped him when she realized what he was intending to do.

For as ready as she was to have him right then and there, Claire knew he would have never touched her that way while he was sober. This was the same guy who cleaned his hands with a wet wipe after shaking her hand for god's sake. The man who had made her cry for the entire night after she had met him because she thought she disgusted him.

She put her hands on top of his to prevent him from going any further. "Gabriel stop… stop," she told him. "You're drunk."

"Doesn't matter," he grumbled. "I want to fuck you Claire." He kissed her hard, "and I bet I can change your mind." Gabriel grinned at the girl underneath him and slipped a hand into her jeans. He continued to kiss her as he worked at her with his long and slender fingers. Claire's senses were on overdrive; every nerve ending on fire as Gabriel Gray's elegant and habitually clean hands brought her closer to the edge.

She fought back against the pleasure-filled moans he was eliciting from her body, trying her hardest to convince both herself and him that it wasn't what she wanted at all; it was hard while he forced the most wonderful feelings to rise up from her core, still breathing lustfully and laying kisses upon her exposed breasts. But before she could find the words to get him to stop, Claire screamed his name with pleasure. She faintly thought that she heard a few people out in the hall applauding and yelling his name, but she was too far gone to care; lost in enjoyment of the afterglow.

She meant to tell him off for going against what she had said, but when she looked over at a now unconscious Gabriel who still had his hand tucked between her thighs, she merely sighed. Claire was exhausted as well, and promptly fell asleep, surrounded by the most terrible and wonderful man she had ever met. It would be an awkward morning-after, but she would deal with him then.

* * *

Tbc.


	3. Evening After

Hi again!

Thank you everyone who reviewed.

I'm trying my best to give the majority what they want, but you guys have some dramatically different opinions.

So this one is pretty short, and I'm not trying to cheat you; I truly believe it is better this way, you'll see why when you get there.

Again your opinions are very important to me. If you want me to reply let me know and I'll be sure to do so!

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

Claire woke up later that evening to Gabriel frantically untangling himself from her. When she spun around to face him, he leapt off the bed; only to look back at her in horror. Claire stifled a laugh as he hurriedly tried to cover himself up; grabbing any article of clothing he could find to hold up against his exposed chest.

Unfortunately for Claire, she was unable to hold back the girlish giggle that sprang forth upon seeing what he had neglected to cover. Gabriel didn't bother to look down at his proud morning erection before casting a glare at the girl still laying in bed, "Is something amusing?" he seethed. Claire dialed it down to only a broad smile.

"What? Do you think I'm funny Claire? Like a clown?" Claire's smile faded completely at that. She had expected him to be a bit confused when he woke up, maybe embarrassed and sorely hung-over, but not angry with her; after all she wasn't the one who came on to him.

Of course Gabriel didn't remember anything; so she supposed his assumption would be that they had sex, poor Gabriel. She set out to put his mind at ease, but her own anger was evident in her words.

"Nothing happened, Gabriel," she told him. He stopped fuming a little bit when he picked up on her tone.

"But you wanted it to…" he guessed.

Claire looked down in shame, embarrassed that she had even remotely taken advantage of him that morning; that she allowed him to touch her.

"So if nothing happened, then why are we both half-undressed?" he asked suspiciously, he made a point to not look at her. Gabriel was obviously confused and a little scared of the possibilities; of what those possibilities would mean for him. Claire was young, very young, and he didn't know her that well at all.

Claire wrinkled her nose, "have you smelled your clothes?" she asked.

He did so then, and finding himself to be disgusted, immediately cast them aside before dishearteningly moving to sit on the end of the bed. Claire looked down then and noticed her own state of undress, her shirt was bunched up around her waist and her jeans were unzipped. She immediately pulled up the sheet to cover herself.

"Um… excuse me while I change?" she asked apologetically.

Gabriel immediately sank down and rested his head against the arms he had lain across his knees. As he tried to piece together the morning before and what he had woken up to, Gabriel gazed at the floor as if he were dizzy, looking even more stressed out than he had been the previous night.

Claire felt another wave of pity as she pulled on some lounge clothes. "Ok, I'm done," she told him. When Gabriel looked at her again, he made a frustrated noise. "Damn it Claire!" he groaned loudly, "can't you put some clothes on?"

Claire looked down at her cotton shorts and shirt; personally she didn't see anything wrong with them, but bent over to pick up some sweatpants from the floor anyway. Gabriel tried to repress a shudder at the movement. "Better?" she asked, and figured he must have been feeling really awkward and self-conscious.

"Much," he choked out gratefully as if being given a flask after being stranded in the desert for a few days.

"I'm not asking for much here," Gabriel lifted his face from his hands and inhaled, combing his fingers through his dark hair in the process, "but I just woke up almost naked in a strange girl's bed, without any recollection of how I happened to end up there. I just want some answers."

"Some answers," Claire repeated, wondering what she should tell him.

"The truth?" he asked hopefully, as if he could read her mind.

"The truth…" she wore an uncomfortable expression, "Well… you drank a half bottle of mezcal this morning… ate a worm, and ended up too drunk to tell me where you lived; so I took you back to my room so that you could sleep it off."

"Ok…" his tone held more than just a little skepticism and irritation. "But how did I end up like… that… with _you_." Claire's temper flared at the distaste he placed on the word 'you'.

"Let me finish," she snarled at him. "Obviously your clothes absolutely reeked and would have been uncomfortable, so I took the liberty of helping you to take most of them off; which was no picnic mind you!" she tried to make him feel guilty. "That's when _you_ insisted that we have sex," her tone grew more hurried, "and I said no, because that would have been bad, and you were drunk… and… Well then you tried it anyway, but you passed out before you could get too far."

Gabriel looked at her in horror.

"Oh god Claire… I'm sorry! I tried to… make you?"

"Well sort of…" Claire saw his expression change into one of self-loathing, so she moved to take his hands in hers and sat on the bed next to him. "But Gabriel… don't worry about it-" he cut her off and turned on her viciously.

"Don't worry about it?" he snapped, "Claire I…" he couldn't say the words.

Claire gently placed a hand on his face and looked at him softly, "Don't worry about it… I wanted to," she crooned soothingly. Gabriel removed her hand, placing it back in her lap, and roughly turned away. The sting of rejection struck Claire.

"You wanted to…" Gabriel repeated with his head down, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He sounded bitter and despondent. Claire sat silently at his side; unable to move for fear that he would notice her sitting there and say something that would hurt again. Despite her efforts to escape his notice; Gabriel spoke anyway, "It's just that I'm me… and you're... you" he was strained as he said the words.

"I'm me," Claire repeated, and tried to hold back the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes. The combination of the rejection she felt at not being wanted after she almost had sex with him, and Gabriel's blunt tactlessness was doing a number on her emotions.

"You… Claire… so young, so very young," he appended, "but beautiful, and smart, and kind." A loud sob escaped from Claire. She might have been those things… might being the keyword, but still she wasn't good enough for him. Claire thought that she should have known better than to expect anything else. It wasn't new information for her that Gabriel detested her and her company. His weak efforts to make her feel better were not doing the job.

At that point Gabriel turned around, dismayed that she was crying and not knowing what to do.

"Oh Claire…" he started, "Claire. Stop please?" he asked, she cried louder upon hearing his unsympathetic tone, of course he would be annoyed.

"I'm not good enough for you," she managed, half-wailing.

"Claire no! No that isn't it at all," he laughed at her.

"Oh yeah right!" she spat bitterly, "Yeah it's not me, it's you right?"

"Did you just?" he scoffed at her, "no… Do people actually say that?" That sobered up Claire a bit, and she just glared at him in response. Gabriel made an attempt to reason with her, "You hardly even know me Claire," he said.

"Oh so now I'm being immature?"

"I said nothing of the sort!" he protested, "But I am starting to think that it wouldn't be too far off base."

"You tried to force yourself on me!"

"You said you wanted it!" he bellowed, aggravated by the circle they had gotten themselves into.

"But you didn't know that," Claire pointed out. Gabriel surrendered and threw his hands up; not wanting to argue with her. They both glared at each other for a few long moments until Claire tackled him to the mattress and attacked his mouth with her own. Gabriel threw her to the mattress underneath him and gave her a withering look.

"Claire…" he warned her dangerously, "what are you doing?" Claire's heart was pounding away, her chest heaving as she lay there trapped underneath Gabriel. She felt like she was in a bad romance novel, and all the while Gabriel had no idea what the position he had her in was doing to her nerves.

Claire tried to pull him down for another kiss, but he remained firm and instead pinned both of her arms behind her head so that she couldn't move. Claire smiled at that, Gabriel seemed to have forgotten that he was almost completely naked, and in the hold he had her in, Claire could feel the entire lean length of him pressed against her body.

"You really don't want me anymore do you?" Claire asked, and pressed her hips into his slightly to test that theory. Gabriel inhaled sharply and glared at her again, "No." Really Claire had no idea what she was doing, all she knew was that she had just thoroughly embarrassed herself. He kept his hands wrapped around her wrists, but allowed her to lay there in silence.

"So where do we go from here?" Claire asked, breaking the spell.

"I'm craving waffles."

* * *

Gabriel flushed when he and Claire left her room. A few people in the hall immediately turned to look at them and hollered Gabriel's name following up with fist pumps and mock moans. Claire thought that they closely resembled monkeys at play. Gabriel half looked like he wanted to crawl into his own skin and hide, and half as if he wanted to kill something.

A few girls were eying Gabriel, apparently also aware of how delicious he looked when he was carelessly thrown together. Claire felt a stab of jealousy as she compared herself to the admirers, and found a couple to not be without. She turned her own attentions toward the man in question and made a mental note that although he was swoon worthy, he also looked incredibly pissed off, and that was something to take seriously with him.

Claire tried to lighten up the situation and leant over to whisper something in Gabriel's ear, "Looks like you're a celebrity," she warned before turning around to shoot her own fist up in the air.

Immediately Gabriel put his hands on her shoulders and hurried her out of the hall way, shushing her. She couldn't help but to think it was adorable that Gabriel could be embarrassed; it went against everything she had in her mind about him. Claire had never partaken in a walk of shame before, but she thought the whole situation was funny to say the least. Gabriel didn't seem to be as amused.

* * *

Gabriel picked at his stack of waffles distastefully. Clearly he had not foreseen that with a stomach full of hard liquor, he would feel even more ill than he felt hungry. Claire was impressed that he hadn't actually thrown up since they started drinking, though judging by the way he was looking at his plate, she was sure that the time wasn't far off.

Claire looked up when Gabriel dropped his fork; she was expecting him to run for the bathroom, but instead he gazed thoughtfully at the table.

"There is something that has been bothering me," he told her. Claire stiffened and braced herself for the emotional impact of whatever hurtful thing he had to say to her that time. "I really ate a worm?" he asked.

Claire promptly burst into laughter. She was grateful that it wasn't anywhere near as bad as she thought. "Yes!" she gasped, "yes you did!" Gabriel smiled weakly; it was a sick sort of smile.

"That's disgusting Claire…" then he thought about it again. "Did it taste good?" he asked warily.

"I think you said it was spicy," she replied sympathetically.

Claire noticed how neat Gabriel was when he ate, literally neat. He took his time and cut a tiny piece of waffle off of the stack for every bite he took; individually buttering and dipping the small bits in syrup before putting them in his mouth. He caught her staring and frowned.

"So Claire," he began to say, "I have another favor to ask you… you can say no if you so desire."

"Let's hear it," Claire prompted. Curious as to what this favor could possibly be.

"Stanford gives me a break on tuition for being a tutor. I'll understand if you don't want to do that anymore, but it would really help me out if you didn't say anything about it." He looked at her hopefully.

"Oh!" Claire exclaimed with surprise, "Well actually I think you're a very good tutor, and _I_ was hoping that you would stick around to help me." They had only had one actual tutoring session up to that point, so Gabriel knew she wasn't being sincere.

"And what have I taught you Claire?" he challenged.

"Umm…" she rifled through her memory, then it hit her. "Spanish!" she exclaimed, "Arriba, abajo, a la derecha, izquierda y pa´dentro," she said proudly and took a sip of her coffee.

Claire noticed the mental grimace Gabriel had not tried very hard to hide.

"Well I don't know if that constitutes one as being a good tutor," he explained. "I taught a centuries old Mexican drinking tradition to an underage girl." His tone told her that he was severely disappointed in himself. She supposed most of it was that he consciously chose to take her to a bar with him.

"I would like you to continue teaching me Gabriel," Claire stated clearly. "I like you-r way of making me understand things." She smiled innocently, once again not giving Gabriel the credit he deserved; he rolled his eyes at her, making it clear that he caught her mistake, and did not approve.

"I have something I want to show you Claire," Gabriel told her when the waiter handed him the check. Claire tried to take it from him when he pulled out his wallet.

"I've got it Gabriel," she tried. He looked at her pointedly in return.

"I have money Claire. I do have a job."

"You picked up the tab last night, let me get it." She tried to grab the slip of paper from him again, but he used his superior height to pull it out of her reach. Claire pouted a little bit, and it made her seem more like a child than ever.

"Claire," he scolded her with a look that made her sit back.

"Ok!" she surrendered, "The next one is mine though," Claire put on her resolved face.

"Alright come on," Gabriel pulled her up by the elbow and led her out of the restaurant, once again surprising her with his lack of gentility.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Claire asked him when he parked the car in a secluded spot. He was silent as he opened the passenger door for her.

"I believe it is common practice for people to be in a monogamous relationship before they get into a fight and break up, so I figured that we could work our way backward to something of a more platonic nature," He explained in a way that didn't answer her question at all, but answered five more. Claire smiled to herself; Gabriel had the most peculiar way of thinking, but it always made sense to her in one way or another.

"So this is a date?" she checked, "and you still didn't answer my question." He gestured her to follow him through a thicket of evergreen trees. She had no idea of where they could possibly be.

"Last night you showed me a place where you like to be alone with your thoughts; while we were eating, I decided it would only be appropriate for me to show you my own sanctuary."

"What your own place isn't good enough?" she questioned.

"Not in the slightest," he answered as he brushed aside a large branch at the end of the path. Claire was awestruck as she found herself standing on the top of a tall look out point, with the angry dark ocean crashing against the side a few dozen feet below them.

"This is incredible," Claire stated the obvious. "Thank you."

"Come sit with me," Gabriel commanded softly. Claire did as he requested. They sat in silence and appreciated the silence of the cool night air for a long time before Claire disrupted the stillness around them.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Fine," he replied simply.

"So you're ok?" Claire was still concerned about his emotional fragility.

"I'm better," he compromised. Claire recognized the change in his demeanor and felt guilty for bringing it up.

"What did you used to think about here?" She tried to reel him back in.

"Many things I suppose, I have spent a great deal of time contemplating family here," he answered hollowly.

"Your family?"

"I never told you why my mother and I were fighting."

"No, you didn't," she replied hesitantly.

"She had just informed me that she was not birth mother. She lied to me about it for twenty long years. My biological father too… he didn't leave."

"Gabriel," Claire began, "If she loved you then why does it matter?" Claire looked down and thought about her own family, "When I found out that I was adopted, it didn't bother me as much as it would most people, because I realized that my mom and my dad would always love me like their own, even my brother Lyle."

"It wasn't like that though Claire… I wasn't adopted at all."

"What do you mean?" she pried.

"My real father's name was Samson Gray," he paused to throw a large stone angrily into the ocean. The action betrayed his voice, which was absent of any resentment; he seemed lost, and sorrowful, but his usual anger was gone. "He sold me to his brother," he finally said.

"Are you sure?" Claire was shocked, "Why would anyone sell you?"

"I know," Gabriel chuckled darkly. "Who would want to buy me? I always knew my father was an imbecile. I knew that I could not be the son of a washed-up clock smith and a woman who collected figurines."

"No," Claire protested, "I mean why would anyone want to give you up?" Gabriel turned on her questioningly. "You're intelligent," she kissed him on the cheek, "and handsome," the other one, "and strangely charming," she held his face in her hands and laid a completely honest and soft kiss upon his lips; for the first time, it wasn't rushed or masked by lust. Claire's kiss was sincere. When they parted, she finished her speech. "You're kind of perfect Gabriel."

"I'm not," some personal condemnation crept into his voice.

"Then you're perfect for me," Claire curled into his side where he put an arm around her. The gesture wasn't as affectionate as she wished it could be, but the fact that he was letting her touch him was definite progress. Claire took a moment to appreciate the feel of his warm body next to hers; it was Gabriel who ruined the imperfect silence this time.

"So who is your father then?" he asked.

"His name is Nathan Petrelli," she answered. Gabriel drew back slightly at that so he could size her up.

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed, "I knew you looked familiar." Claire was shocked that was the most lively she had seen Gabriel act while sober since he leapt out of her bed before.

"Oh?" she questioned him in surprise. "From where?"

"2009 May issue of Time Magazine," he immediately prompted as if he were a living encyclopedia.

"You caught me," she gave in cheekily, "you actually remembered that?"

"I don't seem to forget things easily," he told her, then recognizing the irony in it, smiled to himself. "So if Nathan Petrelli is your father, then what possible reason could you have for living in Palo Alto?"

"I told you I had money," she idly explained, "How did you think I ended up at Stanford?" Claire shook her head, "besides I told you, my real family is in Costa Verde."

"You put every other girl I have met to shame Claire Bennet," Gabriel placed a single kiss on the top of her head, and held her close.

"I feel wrong Claire," he said after while.

"Why do you say that?" She asked curiously.

"I'm happy that my mother is dead." Claire stiffened a little bit at that. Gabriel noticed and released her from his hold.

"What did she do?"

"It isn't important," he told her, but Claire noticed him idly examining his hands besides. When he saw her watching, he hastily pulled them away from view. "I should get you home Claire, it's late."

"Ok," she agreed.

"I almost forgot," he turned to her, "I need to make a brief stop at my apartment first." Claire nodded as she stood up to leave with him.

* * *

"There is something I wanted to give to you before I drive you home," Gabriel told her as he fumbled with the lock on his apartment door.

"Me too," Claire smiled conspiratorially and stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss him. Gabriel was surprised, but returned the affectionate gesture with passion that matched hers. He hungrily pressed her up against the door, running one hand down her chest and opening the door with the other.

They both stumbled inside as Claire jumped up to wrap her legs around Gabriel's waist, upon which he groaned and deepened the kiss; drawing her shirt up with a single hand while he held her close to him.

"Hello Sylar," Claire heard a familiar voice behind her say, she snapped her head in that direction. "Dad?!" she exclaimed horror-struck as he stepped out from the darkness with a gun.

"Claire?"

* * *

Tbc.


	4. Answers

Once again. A lot of people wanted very different outcomes, so I compromised. I hope you like it!

This chapter is definitely rated M.

Reviews always help and are always appreciated.

Thank you and happy reading.

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

Gabriel nearly dropped Claire in surprise. "Claire you know this man?"

"He's my dad!" she exclaimed in horror as she removed herself from him; frantically trying to straighten out her clothing.

"What are you doing here dad?" she stammered. She saw the gun he had pointed at Gabriel, "and with a gun? Why do you have a gun?" No words could describe her confusion at that point.

"I've been tracking Sylar for the last year Claire, what are you doing here?" He still didn't look away from Gabriel, as if he could disappear at any moment.

"Who the hell is Sylar?" She continued the awkward and angry father-daughter exchange.

"The man who you just detached yourself from," he replied wearily.

"No…" Gabriel protested as he cut in, "My name is Gabriel." Noah's calculative stare turned dangerous.

"Claire get out of here—we'll talk later," Noah commanded.

"No! I am not going anywhere. You need to go. Right now." Claire moved to push him out herself, completely unconcerned that he was still armed. Noah roughly seized Claire and secured her with an arm, as if he were taking her hostage, only the gun was not pointed at her.

"What are you doing?" Claire struggled against him.

"Let go of her," Gabriel warned. His protest earned him a bullet in the stomach. Gabriel stumbled back and grasped the wall for support. He was panting, and ground his teeth through the pain.

"Hello Noah," he rasped, a glimpse of someone else surfaced before he sank back against the wall again.

Claire wasn't sure which man she should be looking at, who she should help. The fact of the matter was that one man she cared about had just been shot, and she had to make sure he was alright.

"Gabriel—" she ripped herself away from her father and ran to Gabriel, meaning to tend to his wound, "are you ok?" she pulled up the front of his shirt to analyze the damage. Claire had done this for her father a few times. The entire area was covered in blood; the actual entry site itself an angry pulsating red, but then the lesion started to pulse and the bullet was slowly expelled from his flesh before fresh skin began to form against the blood. "Get out," Claire growled heatedly at her father.

"Claire…" he tried to reason with her.

"Get out!" she persisted.

"My mistake," he gave up and exited the apartment with a grave expression.

Claire shut the door behind Noah and immediately turned on Gabriel.

"Tell me why he called you Sylar," she demanded.

"I don't know," he delivered the lie for her perfectly; it was a well-prepared response that made Claire's anger rise ten-fold, but it was quite clear to her that she couldn't make him tell her anything.

"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, surprised that she still cared.

"I will be fine."

It looks that way... What are you?" He looked slightly taken aback by her sudden inquiry, but it had been one hell of a night, and she wanted answers. Claire was genuinely fearful for the first time since homecoming.

"I don't know what you mean," he recovered stonily.

"Alright then, I'll go ask him," Claire turned to leave.

"No Claire wait." She turned around with her arms crossed.

"Why should I?'

"Please," he looked at her with an unguarded expression. "You make me feel… normal… grounded?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped; the anger apparent in her words.

Gabriel laughed, "—It's ironic huh?"

"I'm not following." Claire wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Sometimes I lose the time—and when I wake up…" he looked down at the floor, "I can do things."

"Things," she repeated, "things like—with the bullet."

"That's a first for me," he looked at her warily, "I think I got that from you."

"What like a disease? I'm diseased now?" She stomped her foot in frustration and paced once down the small hallway; suddenly feeling like the space was too small. She whirled around to face him, "God damn it, what the hell is going on?" she was close to tears; the stress multiplying by the second.

Gabriel stood up then and forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders, "Calm down and I'll tell you!"

"Well someone ought to! Last week my life was perfectly normal… well sort of, normal-er!" She opened her mouth to keep her impassioned rant going, but found herself cut off when Gabriel covered her mouth with his in an enthusiastic kiss. Claire was sufficiently distracted as all thoughts were instantly put on standby; the reveled in the feeling of his lips moving against hers.

Claire remembered that she was angry with him and pushed Gabriel back roughly. "You can't just—" he came back with a deeper kiss, trapping her in his arms. "We'll talk about this in the morning?" she compromised and pulled back slightly. He nodded anxiously and continued to kiss her senseless, barely finding room to breath as he tilted her chin up toward his and finally back to rest his forehead against hers; they were both panting heavily.

"Where were we?" he rasped, and readily picked her up. Claire clung to Gabriel just as before, and he awkwardly stumbled into the living room with her still fixed to him. Claire dragged him down to the couch on top of her where he capably caught himself on strong arms. She hungrily attacked his mouth with her own and clumsily worked at unbuttoning his shirt, missing buttons along the way. Gabriel recognized her urgency and ripped the rest of it open. "It was ruined anyway," he muttered uncaringly as he ground his hips into hers.

Claire smiled against his mouth and pushed the rest of the fabric from his shoulders, trailing her hands across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders. Gabriel languidly slid against her and deepened the kiss as he caressed a thigh and hiked it around his hip. He pulled her up to straddle his lap then, raking his hands up the front of her torso and taking the fabric of her shirt with them. Claire lifted her arms to allow him to gently slide the garment up and off of her body, upon which he twined his fingers through hers above her head after carelessly dropping the shirt behind her.

Gabriel slowly lowered her hands back down with his, and they both pushed against each other. He buried his face in her neck, softly biting and kissing his way up to her jaw, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He fluidly removed her bra as he unclasped the back and lovingly slid the straps down and off. Claire gasped when Gabriel tenderly massaged a breast, gently rolling a nipple between his fingertips, and laving his tongue over the other one.

"Gabriel," Claire moaned and lay back on the couch. She allowed him to take her as he pleased. He continued to trail kisses down the v just above her waistband; sliding her jeans down and off of hips along with her lace underwear. Claire moved to cover herself, but Gabriel stopped her. "Don't do that," he crooned and sat back to straddle her thighs where he could gaze reverently at her naked body beneath his, "you're perfect."

Claire smiled, feeling confident as she sat up to unfasten Gabriel's trousers in return. She followed the dark trail of hair on his tight abdomen with her mouth; removing the rest of his clothing as she went. Gabriel groaned and lifted up her chin, "come here," he demanded softly. Claire slid back up his body where he playfully kissed her and nipped at her lips; he drew back to replace his mouth with two fingers that Claire took into her mouth. She sucked on them lightly before he pulled them out and traced them down her body and between her thighs.

Claire whimpered softly and let her head fall back as Gabriel supported her with one hand on her back. He dipped his already slick fingers into her narrow channel; pumping them inside as he rubbed his thumb over the tiny bundle of nerves he felt there. Claire shuddered and gasped when he found the right spot and curled his fingers; building speed as Claire's breathing grew more rapid with the pressure slowly building in her core.

Claire gasped and her mouth fell open in ecstasy. Gabriel moved to position her on his lap and she panicked. "Wait," she breathed, still reeling from her orgasm.

"Claire," Gabriel soothed.

"I've never done this before," she admitted shyly.

Gabriel pulled back after another kiss, "neither have I," he told her seriously.

"I highly doubt that," Claire panted between kisses.

Gabriel ran a hand through her hair, "I won't ever hurt you." Claire nodded and relaxed slightly at his promise.

She barely felt any pain as he held on to her hips and lowered her onto his shaft. Gabriel hissed; he slowly ran his hands up her thighs and pulled her hips against his hard while he pushed her back onto the couch cushions.

"God Claire…" he groaned, "you feel so good," he managed between kisses. Gabriel knitted one hand in her hair and wrapped an arm around her waist as he plunged into her repeatedly with long and measured strokes.

Claire completely surrendered to Gabriel's capable hands; she very likely wouldn't be able to move if she tried to escape his firm grasp anyway. He tilted his hips slightly; enabling himself to drive into her from a different angle that sent strong waves of pleasure coursing violently through her body. Claire begged for more between loud moans, and Gabriel threw her legs behind her head so he could pound into her hard and fast. It hurt Claire a little in that position and her body had decided she liked it that way, because Gabriel was eliciting delicious noises from it as he continued to slam himself into her. When the shock of her second orgasm that night came, Claire's loud and obnoxious moans turned into breathy sighs. She came, too overwhelmed by the pleasure to do anything else but enjoy that singular blissful moment.

Gabriel allowed her to relax as he kissed her neck tenderly and thrust into her a few more times. He was panting as he spilled himself inside of her, his eyes were screwed shut and his mouth fell open slightly. Claire was sure it was the most beautiful expression she had ever seen on anybody. He collapsed beside Claire and pulled her close so that he could stare at her. His eyes held fear, longing, and trust where she expected him to be momentarily happy.

"I love you," Claire whispered to him and tried to give him a quick kiss, but he stopped her by turning his head to the side.

"Don't say that," his hold tightened possessively and he buried his face in her hair. Claire felt her heart break into a few more pieces, she had just given herself to a man for the first time, and once again she felt all out rejected.

"Why not?" She tried to hide the anguish in her tone.

"Because you'll leave."

* * *

Claire's internal clock woke her up early the next morning. She groaned and made an attempt to stretch, despite the man who had her imprisoned in his arms still. Gabriel shifted a little bit; unaware that he had company in his sleep. Claire took a moment to admire him from her position, he had long and dark eyelashes that contrasted beautifully with his masculine features; she decided that she had never seen a person sleep so serenely. She supposed that falling asleep after a night of mind-blowing sex with a person helped things in that department.

Claire began to feel self-conscious about being completely naked with not even a blanket to cover them both, so she tried to escape his tight embrace and find her clothing without disturbing him too much. Her efforts failed as he only tightened his arms around her like a pillow. She decided to hell with it and reached back as best as she could to remove his arms from her body. Gabriel's eyes immediately snapped open at the new kind of contact.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"You're not a morning person then?" she gave him a surprised smile.

"You didn't answer my question." Gabriel was persistent.

"Clothes," Claire replied simply, as if it should be clear. She made an attempt to stand up.

"Who said you could get dressed?" Gabriel pulled her on top of him and devoured her mouth. Claire was instantly carried away with the things he was doing her, but she had the nagging feeling that there was somewhere she needed to be, so she pulled back slightly; Gabriel merely redirection his attentions to her neck and shoulders.

"Mmm… there's somewhere that I need to be," Claire muttered sadly. It was something that she usually woke up this early for, that's all she could really think of at the moment while her tutor was busy teaching her things about the way she worked. 'Oh right—school,' she remembered.

"No you're going to stay here," he insisted and worked a hand between her thighs.

"I can't miss another day," she breathed helplessly.

"I'll take care of it," he promised.

"We need to talk about last night." She whimpered when he stopped his ministrations and glared at her.

"Apparently I'm not doing this right," he removed her from his lap and scooped her clothes up from the floor.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he snapped, and stalked off toward the bathroom; slamming the door.

Claire sat in the spot Gabriel had put her on; dumbstruck in his wake.

'He didn't seriously take my clothes with him?' she thought. This guy was crazy—granted he was adorable, really smart, and not to mention; incredibly skilled with both his hands and his body. She wanted to go after him, and at least make an attempt to get him to come around. Best case scenario; he allowed her to shower with him. Worst case; he never wanted to see her again. This was an affair that needed to be handled delicately, and so Claire sat and waited for him albeit still uncomfortable with her current situation.

* * *

Claire glared at Gabriel when he came back out of the bathroom freshly clothed and smelling wonderful. He brusquely toweled his hair off, leaving it sticking in all directions; needless to say, Claire's anger soon dissipated when she looked at him looking as attractive if not more so than he was when he woke up in the morning.

"Can I have my clothes back?" she asked sweetly. He appeared to think about it for a moment.

"They're not clean," he finally decided. "I will give you something else to wear." He disappeared down another hallway, and Claire closely followed him.

"There's hardly anything clean about what we did last night."

"Hence the shower," he threw up an arm against the door frame to block her intended path to his bedroom. "Wait here," he commanded and shut the door. Claire frowned, but did as he said. He emerged a couple of seconds later with a clean button up shirt that he handed to her.

"What are there dead bodies in there?" Claire asked sarcastically.

"Very funny," he gave her a dark look that made her wonder if she wasn't completely wrong.

Claire pulled her arms through the shirt, and went to button it up; it was more trouble than she thought it would be to button a shirt up the opposite way. Gabriel recognized her trouble and knocked her hands away, upon which he caringly assisted her. The simple gesture made Claire smile a bit; it was cute.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and made an attempt to not blatantly appraise her tanned and exposed legs.

"Aren't you a lovely host?" Claire quipped.

"Hardly," he grinned. "I have to make you stay any way that I can right?"

"Oh so that's what this is all about," Claire guessed aloud. "I am hungry, but more than that; I'm curious, and you promised a talk in the morning."

"Actually you idly stated that we would converse this morning," he played with the hem of her shirt and managed to distract her for a brief moment. "I like you in that shirt," he looked down at her.

"Oh? You know what I like?" she whispered seductively in his ear, "when people don't ignore my questions." Gabriel wasn't daunted by her comment in the least.

"And you won't like me if I don't tell you?" he murmured as he bent in for another kiss. Claire refused to let herself be distracted again and gave him her cheek instead.

"Maybe," she quipped. "But I'll definitely leave." Gabriel frowned at that.

"Ok Claire," he seemed sad and took her hand in his. "Let me make you some breakfast first." Claire followed him to the kitchen.

'He can cook too?' she thought, 'I love this man!' She was thankful that he could not read her thoughts. She came up behind him and ut her hands on his shoulders.

"So what are you making me?" she asked curiously.

"Don't worry about it little Claire," he turned around and had to stop himself from kissing her again; instead he cocked his head and looked at her. "Actually I have something for you to do." Gabriel swept out of the room and quickly came back with a large book.

"A textbook?" Claire frowned.

"You wanted to go to school," he reminded her smugly. "Now you read. I'll cook." He poured her a cup of coffee and went back to work in the kitchen.

Claire looked at the title of the book. "Activating Evolution," by Chandra Suresh. Claire was surprised that she hadn't heard of him before, and she was aiming to be a biochemistry major. She flipped the text open to the table of contents and decided to start out with the chapter on heredity. She supposed the most important thing about evolution to her was how exactly a living organism inherited which traits. She had only a basic understanding of the chapter before her host announced that breakfast was ready. Claire was once again surprised to find that she was actually interested in the reading.

"Wait wait wait," she protested when he moved to take the book from her. "One more paragraph." Gabriel waited patiently until she finished and replaced the book with her plate. Claire took her first bite of omelet; she had found yet another thing that Gabriel did perfectly. "Oh wow…" she murmured, "this is the greatest thing I have ever had in my mouth—why did we go out to breakfast yesterday?" she joked.

"It's just breakfast Claire," Gabriel replied somberly.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked. She was used to his sudden bouts of fury, but he was so sad and out of character that morning, and she was worried.

"Just eat," he commanded softly, and continued to keep a watchful eye on her while she ate. It probably should have seemed odd to her, but she was actually beginning to like how possessive he was becoming when it came to her; it made her feel wanted.

* * *

"So how did you enjoy the reading?" Gabriel asked as Claire curled up in his lap on the couch.

"It was good," she replied simply. "I read the chapter on heredity." He looked a little surprised at that, but the expression melted into one of approval.

"I suppose you were serious when you said you were into science," he remarked. "So you had questions."

"Let's start off with the first one," Claire prompted. "Why did my dad call you Sylar?"

"I don't rightly know why."

"I thought we were past that," Claire groaned.

"I'm serious Claire. I told you that sometimes I lose the time."

"What does that mean? Lose the time?"

"I wake up in a manner of speaking… I black out. I find myself in different places with no explanation as to why I am there."

"I see—," she trailed off.

"What do you see?"

"Have you ever seen a psychologist?"

"I'm not crazy Claire."

"I didn't say you were," she defended herself. "I read a little bit about disassociate identity disorder once…"

"And?" he encouraged her to continue.

"…and it might be something for you to consider looking into."

"Your guess is as good as mine I suppose; though I would not say that we are too off base from each other."

"From what I understand… a person develops the disorder if they are plagued by emotional trauma from their past," she pressed for information.

"Emotional trauma," he repeated, but gave her no more information. "So I was abused as a child and now I have this big scary alter ego named Sylar?" he made a weak attempt to hide how ridiculous he thought the idea was.

"You kinda have anger issues," she continued weakly.

"Anger issues? Claire that's nonsense," he chastised her. "When have I ever been angry with you?"

"My point exactly," she muttered.

"I don't understand."

"That night at the hospital?" she hinted.

"I don't really remember that…" his eyes widened fractionally. "Oh," his tone was flat.

"Yeah…"

"So you believe that I truly don't know what your father was talking about?"

"Partially—I still think you know more than you're telling me."

"In what respect?"

"You were shot last night, and you healed in only a few seconds."

"And you want to know how."

"Also—why you said you got that from me," she pushed.

"I told you that sometimes when I… come to… I can do things."

"What else can you do?" she asked excitedly. Gabriel frowned at that, clearly he wasn't proud of the fact.

"Suresh believed that some people have anomalistic abilities that could be emotionally triggered as opposed to slowly developed over time in accordance with nature. Granted a person would have to have the specific genetic marker in their DNA to gain such an ability, but Suresh was convinced that he found a way to code the human genome and was close to identifying the specific sequence of DNA that would indicate a person having the potential to gain one of these abilities."

"Anomalistic abilities?" Claire thought about it for a second, "ok… for example rapid cellular regeneration?"

"Exactly. At this point the most plausible theory is Ability Variants. Every person with the genetic marker for anomalistic abilities, essentially carries the same DNA code; however since this is a matter of accelerated evolution and scientific phenomena, it can be supposed that a person's ability will manifest in a way that suits their emotional mind-set; furthermore it would be triggered by a response to active adrenal glands. So a person who longs to connect with other people may have an ability that manifests in the form of empathetic mimicry, or… a person with the need for advanced survival instincts, may develop… rapid cellular regeneration."

"Is that how you think your body could heal itself last night?"

"No." Claire was confused.

"I don't understand, I thought you said your ability would manifest in that way if triggered by the adrenaline…"

"Claire this is all speculative. If I were to have an ability, it would more than likely have developed earlier on in life, and in a way that suited my lifestyle. For example… the way things work; technically speaking, intuitive aptitude. Keeping in the nontraditional belief sense that the phenotypic restrictions would not apply to this specific gene, I could develop bridges from that gene to other ones. After all, 90% of the human genome is junk DNA."

"Bridges… Meaning that your genome would form connections to other abilities?" Claire laughed. "It sounds to me like you think you're more special than everyone else. What you can have more than one ability and nobody else can?" Gabriel frowned at that.

"I didn't say I was the only one with that specific gene. I've always had a way of understanding the way things work, I imagine other people would be able to do the same."

"That still doesn't explain how you absorbed _my_ ability," Claire obviously wasn't taking this seriously as she burst in to laughter.

"Claire if you don't want to listen to this, then you can get out. This isn't some game; it's not some science project, this is my life."

"I'm sorry," Claire tried to apologize. "It's just… this is all pretty ambiguous." She forced herself to stop smiling. "Please continue." Gabriel looked to be on a whole new level of furious, but he continued anyway.

"If I were to… feel a connection with a person… I would be able to understand how they work; their genome that is."

"And your DNA would shift to accommodate room for the newly acquired dimension of your anomalistic ability."

"Right."

"Ok then," she smiled at him. "I guess there's one way to find out if this is all really bullshit or not." She grabbed a pair of scissors from a desk in the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked warily.

"Proving you wrong," she grinned; sliced the tip of her finger open, and held it up for him to see.

"Isn't that something?" he replied smugly as the skin knitted itself back together. Claire blinked and looked at her hand.

"I must have missed it," she slid the blade across her palm; leaving behind a deep and ugly gash. She clamped her jaw shut trying to ignore the pain. Claire shot Gabriel a horrified look and ran into the bathroom. "Damn it!" she screamed and looked at her perfectly healed hand, "what the hell is this?"

Gabriel watched from the doorway and gave Claire her space as she further mangled her left hand and even began cutting her extremities off, only to watch them grow back. Blood filled his bathroom sink as she leaned over it and wept. "No…" she sputtered. "I don't want to be special. I want to be me." She threw her fist into her reflection in the mirror and kept pounding into the broken glass until her rapid loss of blood made her grow weak, and the world faded to black.

* * *

Tbc.


	5. Devotion

Hey guys. It's been awhile since I've updated. So I'm giving you two chapters instead of just the one. :)

Read and enjoy, and if you feel like it; review. I always appreciate them.

Chapter 5

* * *

"Claire?" Gabriel's voice drifted through the air faintly. Claire felt like she was in a fish tank. All sounds were muddled and running together. She could make out the distant sound of water running. She tried to respond to him, but her voice only came out as a soft mumble. "Claire? Come on baby; you're going to be alright. Wake up." She felt his arms wrap around her shoulders as the cold sank into her body. She gasped against the icy sensation and her eyes flew open. Claire thrashed about, trying to get out; it felt like she was drowning, but Gabriel's hold on her was firm.

"Get me out," she shrieked. "It's cold." Reality hit her like a wrecking ball. She was sitting in a bath tub that was running with cold water. "Oh…" she sighed in relief.

"Claire! You're back!" Gabriel exclaimed and wrapped a fluffy towel around her. Claire curled into his lap; seeking out the warmth. "I missed you," he murmured against her wet hair.

"What the hell was that?" she gasped, still shivering.

"You passed out from blood loss."

"Oh… I guess I am human after all."

"Yes, yes you are," he pulled her into a tighter embrace and laughed a high and nervous laugh. "Don't do that again," he commanded.

"Aww… did I scare you?" she smiled at him and ran a finger over his bottom lip.

"Yes—yes you did," his laugh held a little more humor.

"You do love me!" Claire exclaimed with a girlish giggle.

"I wish you wouldn't say that." Gabriel frowned.

"I'm still here though—I didn't leave," she pouted. 'Not for lack of trying.'

"You should move in with me," he said suddenly.

"Now that's a little premature…" she trailed off.

"Apparently it isn't too soon for you to be throwing around words like love," he reminded her.

"I have to get home," she pouted slightly. "I have a game—and practice."

"My little Claire plays a sport?" he raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Not exactly."

"Don't tell me," he barked and thought about it for a second. "Cheerleading…" Claire blushed and looked away in embarrassment.

"Yeah… You caught me," she admitted shyly.

"Well that isn't really something that I can take care of for you—are you feeling ok? You don't have to go if you are not," he asked hopefully.

"Physically," she muttered.

"Claire?"

"I do love you…"

"Enough of that. Now come on, let's get you clothed."

Claire smiled at his use of the word 'clothed'. Gabriel was strangely old fashioned that way; with his words. It did something to relieve the momentary wave of sorrow she felt wash over her upon his usual rejection. He may not have been able to admit it yet, but Claire knew that Gabriel loved her at least a little bit. He wasn't even mad at her for getting blood all over his bathroom and his clothing.

* * *

Claire finished showering and grabbed her cheer bag, making her way from her dorm, to the locker room. When she pulled the door open, she saw all of the other members on the squad giving her an odd mix of looks. "Hi guys," she greeted them shyly. When she got to her locker, a girl named Kate approached her.

"So is it true?" she asked in a gossiping tone.

"Is what true?"

"Are you really dating that geek?" she got in closer, "Gabriel Gray?" she gritted through her teeth as if Claire couldn't have anyone nearby hearing the name. Kate giggled, and Claire frowned in response.

"A geek?" Claire was emphatic. "What are you twelve?"

"At least I'm not having sex with Gabriel," she teased. Claire's temper began to flare.

"Say that again. I dare you," she spat. The subject was still kind of sore. The girl backed away slowly with her hands up.

"Freak," she muttered, and turned to leave.

Claire pulled the girl back by her shoulder and threw a solid punch into her face. Kate fell flat on her back where a group of girls crowded around her.

"Does anyone else have something to say? 'Cause I've had a real baaad morning." Kate was helped to her feet and looked at Claire with annoyance and a tinge of fear.

"Jesus Claire! It was just a joke. You didn't have to go all Buffy on me. God!" she huffed and turned on her heel. "Does anyone have any concealer? And a lot?" she mumbled something about it being game night as she stomped off. Another girl came up behind Claire and patted her on the back.

"Don't worry Claire," she chirped, "Kate's just on her period." She smiled and continued in a sign song voice, "and I think he's cuuute."

Claire openly gaped as she watched the girl walk off. She tried to think of her name as she pulled on her work out clothing. 'Lindsay!' she suddenly remembered, and instantly felt silly for putting so much importance behind a name. Gabriel… Sylar… they were all the same to her; though still she had to wonder what kinds of things Sylar did; he was seriously unhinged. Claire shrugged and made her way to the gym; pulling her hair into a tight ponytail.

* * *

Cheer practice started out the same as usual; a 5 mile run in the blistering California sun. It left Claire with a lot of time to think about what she had learned that morning. It was pretty clear to her at that point that she could not only heal fast, but she could also grow back limbs. Her mind was still reeling form that discovery, but what could she do? It certainly wasn't something she could just wish away, and even if she could; she wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

She supposed if it was just a genetic variation, then it would be something as constant and concrete as having green eyes, or blonde hair. True one could fairly easily hide those things about themselves if they so desired; as was evident from the girls around her. So she guessed all she had to do was hide her newly discovered trait. Decking girls in defense of her weirder boyfriend probably wouldn't make her any less conspicuous.

Claire huffed as she finished her third mile and thought about Gabriel. Running had always helped her to clear her mind a bit. So who Gabriel Gray anyhow? Even after she had sat him down and he agreed to answer all of her questions; there were still so many empty spaces and pauses between them both. Gabriel may have been ready to tell her the truth, but he still didn't know himself well enough to share everything; there were still and always would be hours of his life that he could not account for. It was official, next time she saw Gabriel; she would have to piss him off. Claire would have to draw Sylar out if she wanted any answers.

Claire ran up to the pitch they used for practice and set her mind to practicing their routine for nationals. Go competitive cheerleading. The captain sat them down in a group as she paced in front of them and took note of who was there. Claire was glad that she didn't go on power trips like Jackie. Everything about college was different; easier going. She remembered how her team at Costa Verde had reacted when she started hanging out with her friend Zach. Her attention was called back to the matter at hand, when the captain looked at her pointedly. "Claire," she called her out. "Where were you yesterday?"

"I'm sorry Nikki," I was busy getting shit faced, "I was at the hospital for a friend."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that Claire. You'll have to work harder today though."

"Right," Claire nodded, "thanks Nikki."

Thirty seconds into their practice routine, Claire prepared to do her scorpion double down; she grimaced when she saw who her base was. Of course it would be Kate, but she trusted that the girl wouldn't let her fall; after all, that would look bad on her. So Claire got into position and perfectly performed the stunt while she was being held up, but when Kate threw her up in the air, she had taken two steps back; just out of reach. Claire hit the ground with a loud snap and the wind was knocked out of her. She panicked as she found herself at a loss for air, someone had stretched her arms behind her head so she could breathe, and she felt excruciating pain shoot down her spine.

"Damn it," Claire ground out, "Please, just don't touch me," she squeaked.

"Oh Claire I'm so sorry," Kate dropped down beside her. Claire panicked, she couldn't move. "Are you ok?" she was asked by a few people at once.

"Oh yeah I'm fine," she croaked, "I just need a second," for my spine to repair itself. When the pain was gone, Claire sat up; confident that she was alright. She shot Kate a pointed look that told her not to try that again. For the first time she was thankful to be a freak.

"Sorry you guys!" she jumped up and put some extra perkiness behind her voice. "Let's do it over."

* * *

Claire always felt half ridiculous when she was cheering at a game. Even in college, they weren't competitive cheers that they performed for the crowds; mostly just synchronized promiscuous posing and shaking pompoms. On the other hand, Claire enjoyed getting all dolled up so that every guy in the room would look at her. She shook her hips with the rest of the girls and snuck a look out at the crowd. Claire nearly froze when she saw that Gabriel was there; she felt completely ridiculous instead of just partially so. He wore no expression; he just stared intently at her. Claire was secretly pleased that he wasn't checking out any of the other girls, but to be fair; it didn't appear that he was looking at her that way either, not like he had that morning at least. Still it made her feel wanted that he only had eyes for her. Claire turned up the sex appeal behind her movements and stared back at him for the rest of the game; she wanted him to know that she was putting on a show just for him. Gabriel's expression darkened slightly, but he seemed angry in a sense. Stanford won their home game that night, and the team was fired up. The running back approached Claire after the game.

"Hey Claire, I couldn't help but notice how great you looked out there tonight," he told her.

"Oh thanks," Claire replied shyly. "So did you, you guys were great; hence the winning of the game…" She meant to give him proper congratulations, but it came out a little strange. He just shook his head and put a hand on her hip.

"So listen, Claire—a bunch of us guys were going to go out and celebrate tonight. I was hoping you would come along—as my date."

"As your date," Claire repeated doubtful. The running back's name was Richard Louis and he was another cute all-American boy from the South; that was really all she knew about him, but honestly he didn't seem like her type anyway.

Claire spoke up, "I'm sorry. My boyfriend is here actually, and I don't think he would like that too much."

"Oh that's too bad. Let me know when he's not around." Richard smiled at her and left to join the rest of the team in the parking lot.

Gabriel was still standing near but not quite in the stands, waiting and staring; he looked remarkably out of place at a football game. Claire mad her way over to him in all his Gabrielesque glory; with his glasses, faded black sweater and jeans, and his hair combed in a funny way. He looked so different to her now that Claire knew what was underneath it all. His shoulders that had once seemed so narrow, now boasted about his incredible height. His long limbs were lean and muscular as opposed to gangly. Claire especially enjoyed his standoffish stance that screamed he was a complete bore. Gabriel Gray was the most exciting man she had ever met.

"Hey you!" she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "You came," she smiled brilliantly at him.

"Apparently to watch you with other men," he seethed.

"Boy," Claire corrected, "and you know what I told him?"

"Please enlighten me." She nuzzled her nose against his in a display of affection that he wasn't entirely comfortable, so she settled for resting her forehead against his.

"I told him that my amazing boyfriend was here waiting for me." Gabriel showed obvious distaste at her use of the word 'boyfriend'.

"Boyfriend?" he repeated.

"Lover?" Claire offered.

"Boyfriend will be fine," he swallowed.

"I missed you."

"And I you," he kissed her on the forehead and let her hair down for her, tousling it about a little bit. "I'm more used to seeing you like this though," he grinned. "The uniform is a nice touch."

"Gabriel Gray," she teased in faux shock, "do you have a thing for cheerleaders?"

"No," he replied flatly. The single word knocked her good mood down a few pegs. "Just you," he continued silkily. "Let's you and I find some place far away from here," he suggested archly.

"I like this plan already," Claire replied coquettishly and laid a light kiss upon his lips.

* * *

"I have something that I want to tell you Claire." Gabriel murmured softly as he held Claire against his chest." She gazed out at the ocean below, and wondered if the secluded ocean spot Gabriel had taken her to for the second time was to be their special place.

"And what might that be?" she asked.

"You are the most intelligent girl I have ever known," he replied simply.

"Oh," she was expecting something a bit more profound. "That's—nice."

"So why do you waste your time cheerleading?"

"Why do you waste your time repairing watches?" He glared at her and she returned the look.

"Because I enjoy it," his tone was sharp.

"There you have it."

"You're a strange animal Claire Bennet."

"So are you."

"That works out nicely then."

Claire was thankful for the silence as she prepared to do something she wasn't looking forward to. She had to know him though, both sides. The memory of the way her father had looked at him had yet to escape her mind, and even if he did knowingly almost kill the man she love; Claire loved her father as well as Gabriel, they both had a place in her heart.

"This place is boring. I should have gone out with Richard instead," Claire remarked. Gabriel gave her a strange look.

"Claire?"

"No it's not this place, it's you. You always lie to me, and everybody hates you; it was embarrassing to be seen with you tonight. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Why would you say something like that?" Gabriel looked hurt and confused, but not angry. At that point she knew she had messed up; she tried to recreate the night at the hospital in a way of sorts.

"Richard gave me his number before he left. He told me to call him when you're not around. The thing is though… I'm not sure I want you around anymore." Gabriel released her as if she were some deadly and poisonous thing.

"It was a mistake to get involved with you. All you do is sit around and lament about how awful your childhood was, and how nobody loved you; your own mother couldn't even love you. You make me sick."

"What are you doing Claire?" he looked bewildered.

"Trying to make you mad," she admitted meekly.

"Yes… why?"

"Is it not working?"

"No it's definitely working," he continued to stare at her. Claire raised a fist and hit him, hard. He was hardly fazed, so she did it again, and he just let her. Claire was weak from her emotional upset at having to hurt him, but the difference was palpable; so she tried for a third. Gabriel caught her fist in his hand that time.

"Stop it Claire," he growled at her.

"Why isn't it working?" she barely managed to say between tears.

"Yes! I'm really pissed off right now, you just hit me."

"Then why—" she trailed off.

"Why am I not turning into a crazy psychotic killer right now? Is that what you want? Do you want me to try to kill you?" his tone was bitter and injured.

"I don't know what I'm looking for—I think that's the point."

"Claire," he sighed. "I told you I would never hurt you I meant hat."

"I want to meet him."

"I told you—I feel grounded when I'm with you Claire; I'm not two people."

"Oh."

"Yes oh. What the hell is wrong with you?" She felt awful, but she was pleased to see that he was more angry than hurt now. "I guess I was right,' his voice was cold and distant. "Remember how I said I had something for you last night?"

"Yes…"

"I was going to give it to you tonight." Claire's heart sank and shattered into a million pieces at the bottom of her stomach.

"God I'm sorry… I should go."

"I wouldn't if I were you," he said darkly.

"Why not?"

"You wanted to get me upset; and a job well done, I must say. But if you leave; I'm not quite certain that I'll be me for very long after."

"I can't stay with you forever," she remarked meanwhile thinking, 'though I would'.

"Well then you better get to making me the happiest man on this planet."

"What do you want me to do?" Claire asked skeptically.

"Use your imagination," he suggested. Claire knelt down in front of him and tried to kiss him, but Gabriel pushed her away. "That's not very imaginative," he reproved her. "Come on—you're a smart girl Claire, think."

Claire sat back and made a mental list of the things she knew about Gabriel in the order that she discovered them; he collected and restored time pieces, he hated germs, he didn't much care for people either, his mother was important to him (whether he liked her or not), he got jealous very easily (that could be useful), he was a funny drunk, he was a firm supporter of monogamy, he was abandoned and adopted, and misunderstood, he didn't know himself that well, and he knew almost everything there was to know; except her, he didn't know her very well. That was it. She was the only thing that wouldn't make him more upset at that point.

"Ok Gabriel. I've never actually done this for anybody," she said nervously.

"Oh? Let's see and/or hear it."

"You get twenty questions; I have to answer them, no matter what they are," she smiled.

"I like this game, how do I know if you're lying though?"

"I'm an awful liar."

"Very true," he agreed. "Ok first question… Why Biochemistry?"

* * *

Tbc.


	6. Counterpart

The other part...

Chapter 6

Please read and hopefully enjoy. :)

* * *

"Ok first question… Why Biochemistry?"

"Biochemistry—high school sophomore biology; we learned about regenerative properties in newts, it made me wonder if a person could splice animal genes with human genes to give them certain properties. There's this virtually immortal jellyfish that can revert it's cells back to their infantile state in the face of death; it can never die that way.

"Interesting," he looked carefully at her as if trying to read something from her face. "Second question… Why did you pick up cheerleading if you are interested in Science?"

"That's easy; I wanted to fit in."

"Did you ever feel like you were destined for more than just this?"

"Honestly I've never really thought about it. I guess I always felt like I was here for other people."

"What is more important to you? Love or the truth?" Claire thought that it was a strange question coming from him, but she had made a promise to answer all of his questions.

"Love," she decided.

"Why?"

"My father lied to my family for years; he still does. They're happier that way. I think love is the only thing that can make a person find true enjoyment in life as opposed to merely being content."

"Your favorite book." Claire blinked at his sudden change in seriousness.

"Pride and Prejudice," she admitted reluctantly.

"And I suppose you want your very own Mr. Darcy."

"That's not a question," she pointed out.

"Do you?" It occurred to her why he had asked about her choice in literature.

"In a manner of speaking," she wondered what she wanted in a man. "I like a little mystery in my man; someone dark. I'd like to be the most important thing to him."

"I see," the corner of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a small smile. "Why is that pocket watch so important to you?"

"It reminds me that I come from somewhere. I feel a connection to it."

"Does it strike you as odd that the name on it is also Sylar?"

"I suppose it does," truthfully she hadn't thought much of it.

"Does he scare you?"

"Yes," more than words could explain.

"Why?"

"My father wouldn't be after… him—you," she corrected, "…if it wasn't important."

"He's important to you," Gabriel observed. "Will you leave me if it ends up being worst case?"

"I might have to. I won't want to."

"What if he killed someone you cared about?"

"You," she clarified for the second time, "and I care about you; so I can't be sure how I would react."

"Why were you so familiar with that hospital?"

"The first time I'd been there, I had to identify a body. My friend Jackie was murdered in front of me during my Homecoming senior year."

"How?" Claire inhaled deeply and braced herself for the brutal emotional impact of what she was about to tell him.

"He thought she was me… he sliced her head open and he—he took her brain."

"Her brain…" he repeated thoughtfully. "Why did he want you?"

"He said…" she swallowed and looked warily at Gabriel. "He said I was special."

"That sounds familiar. What if that was me?" Claire held in a gasp at that; the reality hit her like a wrecking ball. The faded memory of the man who had attacked her friend came back in a depository of flashing images. Tall and dark; almost recognizable, but it was the eyes that she remembered. She looked into his eyes and tried to convince herself that he wasn't the same person, but she failed.

"It was—you… It was you," her eyes were wide with horror.

"No… Claire I would never hurt you."

"That was you," she choked on the words, "that's how you do it… the key is in the brain."

"Claire no… I love you," he tried to pull her into a hug, but she slapped his arm away.

"You tried to kill me. You killed her… and your mother; the others… that's why he wants you." She took a shaky breath and backed up; her foot slipped at the edge of the cliff, but Gabriel caught her before she could fall.

"No Claire, that's him, that's not me."

"You're the same person," she croaked and looked into his eyes with fear; it made him let go.

"Get away from me," she screamed at him through tears. "If you stay he will catch you. I will tell him. Go away."

"Claire…" He half extended a hand toward her, but he stopped and took a few steps back. "I don't have to be him anymore. You can help me."

"No! I don't want to help you," she ran past him through the forest but she didn't make it very far. Claire found herself thrown into a tree by an invisible force; she panicked as she commanded every muscle in her body to move, but they all refused; she was trapped. Gabriel approached her slowly, looking every bit the predator that he truly was.

"Let me go," Claire implored. "Please Gabriel…"

"Congratulations Claire," he purred. "You found the monster in the man."

"Gabriel," she pleaded weakly. "What are you doing?"

"No…" he spared her a ravenous look beneath dark eyebrows. "Not Gabriel. He didn't love you Claire… but I do."

"No—no you don't," she attempted to convince him as best as she could.

"Yes I do, and I'm going to prove it to you."

"Please don't," she croaked between tears."

"Claire…" He reached out and stroked her face. "You silly girl; I never tried to kill you—I couldn't even if I wanted to." He leaned in and brushed his lips lightly against hers. "You're special."

"So you've said," she ground out, "different contexts."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You're not him; I love Gabriel," Claire protested.

"We're the same person Claire."

"No," she sobbed.

"That's enough Claire," he said in typical Gabriel fashion, and stepped in closer to her; bringing a handful of her hair up to his face. He inhaled deeply. "Just say it Claire; it will be better for the both of us."

"Say what?" she muttered.

"Tell me you love me." He brushed a hand along her jaw and down her neck. Claire shivered; she loathed this man, but he still felt like her Gabriel; touched her the same way. Still she knew that he wasn't the same, and she could never do that to Gabriel.

"I won't do it," she spoke up in defiance.

"That's too bad," he lamented. "You can call me Gabriel if you want to." Sylar gave her a sad smile.

He took her hand and allowed her to walk with him. Claire knew better than to try and run. As they reached the edge of the cliff though, Sylar looked away for a split second, and Claire took the opportunity to leap into the dark ocean below. She did not anticipate the current being so strong; she had meant to swim to shore and call her father from somewhere, but it seemed that the night had different plans for her.

The waves sent her crashing into the rocks at the base of the cliff side before they pulled her under. The icy water forced itself into Claire's lungs; every brain cell she had was screaming at her for oxygen, but then they were silenced, and she felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

* * *

The next thing Claire felt was a burning pressure in her chest and throat as the water was forced out of her lungs.

"Damn it Claire," someone growled.

She choked and sputtered as the world came spinning back.

"Gabriel?" she murmured softly.

"Close enough," he sighed in relief. "That was really stupid Claire! You just died; as in dead, gone from the world," he rambled. "Do you know what you just did to me?"

She just stared at him with wide eyes.

"Well do you?" It was the most stressed out she had ever seen a person, but she remained speechless besides. "I finally find someone I am able to love, and you go off and kill yourself!"

"You're angry with me?" Her voice was still hoarse from the water that remained inside her lungs.

"Look at you," he looked at her with apparent disapproval, "you're a mess." Claire noticed then that he was also entirely soaked.

"You came in after me…" her voice was weak.

"Of course I did. Though I had half a mind not to," he folded his arms and turned away from her. Claire had to laugh at how childish the action seemed.

"Gabriel," she tried to get his attention, and slowly managed to push herself off from the sand. She crawled over closer to him. "Gabriel?" she tried again; he still wouldn't respond. "Sylar." He immediately turned toward her.

"What?" he asked sharply.

"You said I could call you Gabriel," Claire thought to remind him.

"Well that was before you threw yourself off of a cliff."

"So…" she looked around, and sat back on her knees. "Can I go now?"

"I really don't care," he muttered. Claire got up to leave, and he stood up with her. "So you're actually living then?" he asked in bitter hurt, "After I saved you?"

"You killed my best friend," Claire spat angrily.

"To be fair; that's not my fault."

"What did you slip and accidentally remove her brain from her skull?"

"Don't be ridiculous Claire. This is serious—it's my power."

"What did we decide that was, intuitive aptitude?" She leveled him with a glare. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It creates this hunger inside of me," he started to explain. "I can't stop… It's an evolutionary imperative."

"Sea turtles die on the same exact beach where they were born, lions slaughter gazelles, spiders eat their young…" she quoted something he had said to her earlier.

"They don't want to. They have to," he finished for her.

"You don't have to do anything—no one does."

"I wish that was true… I don't want to be a monster Claire."

"So don't," she replied calmly.

"I need you to help me do it. Don't you feel it?" He took her hand in his, "we are connected Claire."

"No… No I don't feel it," she lied. He took his hand back and pulled something out of his pocket.

"I can prove it," he told her; he certainly sounded like he believed it to be true with every fiber of his being.

"How?" she breathed.

"Take this," he handed her a small compass.

"That's cute," Claire sneered, "what do I do with it?"

"There's a lot more people like us out there Claire. That will lead you to them; they may have answers… for you."

"I need some of those," she pocket the trinket and started to walk off, and then something occurred to her. "So if there are so many others out there, then why are they still alive? Why isn't this place an open buffet for Sylar?"

"I told you… I don't want to be a monster." Claire nodded and opened her mouth to say goodbye. "And Claire—" he cut her off, "one more thing." He threw her his keys, "I'd rather you didn't tcatch a ride back home from a complete stranger." Yeah like there was anyone more dangerous than him.

"How are you-?"

"I'll be alright," he reassured her. Claire came up to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks," she said. "Don't kill anybody?"

"I'll try," he replied sarcastically before he watched her retreat into the woods.

* * *

Claire dialed a number when she got back to her room.

"Claire? What's wrong?" Noah's groggy voice answered the pohne.

"I need to talk to you. I'm coming over," she informed him; her tone was urgent.

"You haven't returned my calls. Are you alright? Where are you?" he was starting to overreact, just as she expected; she meant to keep this brief.

"We'll talk about it when I get there."

"Ok," he agreed hesitantly. "See you soon Claire-bear. Be safe please…"

Claire clicked her phone shut and replaced her keys with Gabriel's. Somehow she knew that he would find them.

* * *

It was a short drive to her father's apartment. He had relocated to San Francisco after he and Sandra had split up. She had heard enough of his lies; and their marriage failed because of it. Claire wasn't surprised to see her father dressed in his usual black suit when he answered the door. She bet he slept in them these days. The dark circles under his eyes were the only indicator that he had been deprived from sleep in any amount.

"Claire," he breathed in relief and pulled her into a hug.

"Did you know about me?"

"Know what?"

Claire walked past him to the kitchen and grabbed a knife off of the counter; she ran it through her hand and pulled it back out, wincing with the pain that she was so grateful to feel; it was the only natural thing about the action.

"Claire!" Noah exclaimed. "Do you always have to do things the dramatic way? You could have just asked."

Well there's my answer…" she glared at her blood soaked hand, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure if your ability would ever manifest at all. I was trying to protect you Claire."

"Protect me," she cried and gave him a look. "Which brings me to my next question; why didn't you tell me about Sylar?" Noah froze at the name. "You knew it was him that night, and you didn't tell me."

"What did he do to you?" he demanded.

"Nothing," everything…

"Right… but he isn't Gabriel anymore?"

"No… he's… him, but he told me that he doesn't want to be a monster anymore," Claire looked at her father meaningfully, "I believe him." She reached into her pocket, "and he gave me this," she held out the compass in her palm to show her father. He picked it up and examined it.

"I've seen this before."

"What is it exactly?"

"A man named Samuel Sullivan put together a carnival full of people with abilities. This is supposed to reveal its location," he glanced up at her slightly confused expression. "It moves around a lot," he explained.

"I see…" something was still bothering her. "If you knew what Sylar would do to someone like me, why would you leave me with him?"

"You're a grown woman now Claire-bear… Trust me when I say that was not something I liked to stumble upon," he looked away embarrassed; it was something Claire had seldom seen on her father's face.

"You would have let him cut open my skull?" Claire asked in disbelief.

"He already had your ability… when I shot him; I could see that."

"How did he get my ability if he didn't take it from my head?"

"In addition to his intuitive aptitude, Sylar also has an ability we call empathic mimicry. If he forms a connection of some kind with a person, he picks up their ability by relating to them."

"That's—mildly disturbing, but it explains a lot. It figured that the only person who would be able to understand her was a psychotic killer.

"I thought he was your boyfriend."

"He was—well Gabriel was; I swear I didn't know…"

"I know Claire," he wet a towel and handed it to her so she could clean off her hand. "There's one more thing; your birth mother Meredith; she is part of the carnival… please tell me you won't go. I have answers for you."

"Just not the ones I'm looking for," Claire added. "I need to know more about me; where I come from." She looked at him meaningfully. "I came to tell you that I'm leaving."

"Claire please… please stay. Most people who go to the Sullivan carnival—well they never come back."

"It's a trap?"

"No—most are seduced by the idea of living out in the open with their abilities. Claire you don't have to; you can live a normal life here."

"Normal," she snorted derisively. "I think it's pretty clear at this point that you don't actually work for the government, and I'm not exactly a Mary-Sue either."

"Right on both accounts. I work for a company that protects people like you from people like Sylar; people with abilities that have gone terribly wrong. I'm sorry Claire… but you have to understand; I'm going to take him in."

"But he wants to be better," she protest weakly; knowing full well that her father spoke the truth. Whether he was Gabriel Gray, or Sylar; that man was dangerous.

"I'm sorry Claire."

"I know… be careful," she ceded.

"I always am," he gave her a hug, "is there nothing I can say that will change your mind?" he asked hopefully.

"I have to go."

"At least take somebody with you."

"Who are you thinking," she looked at him skeptically.

"My old partner?"

"The weird Haitian guy that doesn't talk? No way!"

"You've always gotten along well with Peter," he supplied unwilling to give up.

"Peter… as in uncle Peter? Does he have an ability too?"

"He has a variation of empathic mimicry; his is temporary."

"Wow…" she breathed. Her whole life was based on a well constructed cover-up, "and my real father?"

"Trust me when I say; you don't want him involved in this."

"Why not?" Claire frowned.

"Nathan Petrelli works for the opposite side so to speak."

"We study people with abilities; he helps imprison them for the government, or at least he is the head of an organization that does."

"You're kidding! But wouldn't he have to…"

"Yes it's a bit morally corrupt." A shiver ran down Claire's spine. "What time is it in New York?" she hoped to have some time to herself before her father got Peter involved.

"It's five o'clock in the morning."

"Right… I guess that gives me time to prepare for my trip."

"I'll send him over."

"Send him over?" Claire was confused, "I thought he was in New York…"

"If I'm not mistaken; at current he has the ability to fly."

"Fly?" Claire's eyes grew wide. "You're kidding! People can do that?"

"It's a lesser known ability."

"Cool…" Claire shrugged, and an awkward silence fell between her father and her. "I guess I better get going; let you get back to bed and what not!"

"Like I could sleep…"

"I love you dad," she gave him an apologetic smile.

"I love you too Claire-bear. Please be safe," he begged and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before ruffling her hair.

* * *

When Claire got back to her dorm, the first thing she did; was to check and see if Gabriel had picked up his keys yet. Sure it had been less than an hour since they parted, but he was a man full of surprises. As expected, the keys were gone, but something else was in its place; it was a watch, the one that identified him as Sylar. She picked it up and examined it. The watch was newer than hers, but it seemed to hold so much history; memories of all the things that he had done, and all the things he may have regretted.

Claire found herself wishing she knew more about Sylar, and strangely enough not even on a biological level; she wanted to know what made him tick. One word stood out in her head in association with both Gabriel and his darker counterpart; love. They were both starved for it, and Sylar was the one who was willing to do something about it. She wondered what he would have done to her if she hadn't pulled her attempted escape stunt; how far he was willing to go to prove his love for her.

Whoever he was at the moment; one thing was for sure, he was a man caught up in his feelings and strong emotions that he could not recognize in himself. There was something precious in being the person that matters most to another; to be the one who teaches someone what it is to be truly alive.

Claire fastened the watch around her wrist where it hung loosely, it looked completely wrong on her, and somehow that made it more special.

"It's a little to big don't you think?" a voice said behind her. Claire released an exasperated sigh.

"Doesn't anyone knock anymore?"

"Nice to see you too Claire." She turned around to face the tall dark and handsome man the voice belonged to.

"It's nice to see you Peter," she managed a weak albeit somewhat mocking smile. She remembered when she first met him and she thought he was positively divine; only to find out that he was her uncle. She vowed never to meet men at her real father's parties again; the embarrassment still had yet to subside. Worse yet was that Peter also blindly returned her affections until they both uncovered the truth; things were awkward between them to say the very least. However a friendship was not completely out of the question as they had yet to become physical at all before they realized they were family. Claire picked up a bag at the front of her bed and began shoving random articles of clothing inside, and trying to appear busy and preoccupied.

"I thought you would be ready," Peter supplied to coat the silence with small talk.

"I guess I assumed you would be here later… sorry… Time difference and all," she offered in return.

"I'll let you finish packing, coffee?"

"I um… don't really need—ah what the hell. Yes please," she gave him a dazzling smile; truthfully it was a fake one. Claire needed a few more minutes of alone time. When she turned around , Peter was gone. She wondered if coming and going unannounced was common in people with abilities, or even anyone in knowledge of them. Her father and Gabriel certainly had the stealthy factor down, she supposed she would have to work on being more guileful if she was to live some semblance of a life without interference from the rest of the world.

She managed to get changed into some more suitable clothing before Peter came back. He handed her a cup of coffee, "5 creams, no sugar; right?" he checked.

"That was fast," Claire noted surprise, and then her expression melted into a smile, "you remembered."

"You're the only person I know who takes that much cream without sugar in their coffee," he shrugged and sat down at the end of her bed. It was the same place Gabriel had put himself the night he woke up at her apartment, but it seemed so different. "So Claire…" he took a sip of his coffee and looked at her, "if I'm going to go on this grand adventure with you; don't you think I should know why?"

"It's a long story that I'm tired of not only telling, but trying to figure out," Claire muttered.

"Give me the cliff notes then."

"My boyfriend ended up being a psychotic serial killer with split personalities who takes peoples' powers, and I found out that I have a power. So we talked it over and he gave me this compass. I guess I'm supposed to go look for answers at this carnival." Peter blinked and gave her an incredulous look.

"You're kidding right?" he burst into laughter. "You have the worst luck with men Claire!" Claire flushed and grew angry; the truth hurt.

"Don't start with me!" she warned.

"How did you end with Sylar?"

"Did everyone know about him but me?" she cried.

"I'm assuming you didn't meet him at a nightclub."

"He was my tutor," she admitted.

"Your tutor," Peter repeated slowly and tried to keep from laughing again. "I'm sorry Claire. It's really not funny-"

"No it's not!" she agreed.

"But seriously… you could have any man you want, but you managed to find the worst super-powered serial killer out there."

"I'm glad someone is amused!"

"You should know that I disapprove though," he gave her a stern look. Claire ignored him went to sling her bag over her shoulder, but Peter snatched it from her.

"Well aren't you a gentleman?" she gave him a saccharine smile.

"Always," he grinned. "Now let's see that compass of yours." Claire reluctantly handed it over to him. It didn't feel right for someone else to be holding it. She didn't think Gabriel or Sylar would look too kindly upon her leaving it in the possession of her sort of ex-boyfriend, even if he was her uncle now. Peter studied the trinket for a few seconds and held it steady in his palm. "Looks like we're headed Northeast. Are you ready Claire?" He opened up her window and held out his arms for her.

"And strangely enough… heights still bother me," Claire gulped.

"I won't let you fall Claire; you know that."

"Alright let me know when we're there," she muttered and squeezed her eyes shut, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Tbc. 


	7. Connections

Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update; I've been really busy, and I've began to write another story. I'm bad, I know.

Here it is though.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed it really helps me to figure out where this story is going.

I noticed a lot of you were angry about Peter being referred to as "tall, dark, and handsome." I just like messing with you. I'm not a fan of Peter, hopefully I've made up to you with his depiction in this chapter.

There is a new transition style in this chapter; if you don't like it let me know and I'll go back to my old ways.

Reviews are always helpful and appreciated; good or bad.

Thank you and happy reading.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

"You can open your eyes now Claire," Peter told her. Claire reluctantly did as he said; looking around and trying to get a bearing on where they were.

"Looks like a carnival," she shrugged.

"Yep," Peter also took a turn to scan their surroundings.

"Always said I belonged at a freak show; just never took it so literally," Claire muttered.

"You're not a freak Claire," he insisted, but she wasn't listening.

Answers… maybe she didn't want to figure everything out. What if the truth was too much to handle? It already felt like reality was bound to crush and suffocate her.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Claire blurted out unceremoniously. Peter gave her an incredulous look. "I'm serious," she persisted." You don't have to do this, and now that I think about this, neither do I."

"Claire—come on. I'm here for you, to support you; no matter what."

"I know… but this isn't your problem; it's mine."

"We came all this way Claire, so you at least have to check it out," he told her and dragged her toward the entrance. A strange man who Claire assumed to be the owner, Samuel Sullivan approached them with a wide smile on his face and his arms outspread.

"Claire—so glad you could make it."

* * *

"I know it can look a little scary from the outside, but you'll get used to it," Samuel told them.

Claire barely heard him; her attentions were absorbed by all of the things happening around her. Everywhere she looked, people with abilities were demonstrating their gifts for small audiences; it was brilliant. Claire never would have thought there would be a place where she could be herself; where anyone like her could be who they really were. Samuel interrupted her dazed condition when he nudged her on the arm.

"Hey, free passes. The whole night's on me," he smiled indulgently at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Claire handed Peter his pass and looked at him questioningly as if to ask if he were alright with this. He shrugged subtly but maintained a skeptical look.

"You like carnivals right?" Samuel pushed, noticing the guarded expression Peter wore. He was obviously not expecting either of them to say otherwise as he looked at them expectantly. Peter grew a smug look on his face and opened his mouth to say no, but Claire cut him off.

"Thank you, but we are just looking," she stated tactfully and clamped a tight and punishing hand around Peter's arm.

"Of course you are," Samuel replied knowingly.

"Although I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to be seeing," Claire added.

"That all depends on what you're looking for." Claire was beginning to tire of all of his ominous words and answers, but normalcy seemed to be a short coming in a place where people made their money by being extraordinary. She supposed the old-world way he spoke was all part of the act.

"Do you like popcorn?" Samuel asked as they stopped at a vendor.

"Who doesn't?" Claire scoffed light-heartedly.

"Well this is the best popcorn in the world, and I'm not just sayin' that." He handed her and Peter their own boxes. Claire popped a few pieces into her mouth.

"Mm—that is good," she murmured happily.

"Tell you what," Samuel began, "Stay until you finish the box. Walk around on your own; meet my family. When you're done, I'll walk you back out and you both can go home. Just until you finish the popcorn." He sounded hopeful and excited like a little boy at Christmas. Claire couldn't help but to smile and agree to his proposal.

* * *

Peter had been completely on edge since they arrived at the carnival, and it was hard not to notice; he was positively radiating cynicism. Still she couldn't blame him; after all, that was the goal her father had in having him go with her. He didn't want Claire to get sucked into Samuel's illusion of family and freedom.

"What is it we're supposed to be looking at here?" Peter huffed in exasperation.

"I don't know," Claire answered honestly, "but I've got plenty left." She contentedly munched don a few more pieces of popcorn as they turned the corner. They were following the faint sound of an announcement. "Every tattoo a harbinger," it said, "her naked skin the canvas to rival Van Gogh." Claire studied the sign outside of a large tent. "Tattoo girl, The Exotic Temptress," it read.

"Sounds promising," Peter perked up and grinned at that.

Claire playfully slapped him on the arm and brushed the folds at the entrance of the tent aside. Their steps were calculative as Claire warily made her way farther into the dim lit tent. She took a second to appreciate the ambience with the old fashioned lanterns and various exotic silk furnishings. At the head of the tent was perhaps the most intriguing sight in the room. A beautiful woman sat in front of a vanity waiting for them to approach. She looked at Claire knowingly and turned back, allowing her robe to fall down her back and reveal her various tattoos.

"What are we supposed to do?" Claire asked curiously. Peter was obviously too distracted to pay any attention to their verbal exchange as he gazed at the woman, who lauhed and held up a hand.

"You ask the question and take my hand," she informed Claire. Claire was still skeptical.

"And you're like what—a fortune teller?"

"I show you what you need to see." It was Claire's turn to be amused.

"Like a crystal ball?" she joked.

"Something like that," the woman smiled coyly.

Claire decided she liked her well enough and stepped forward to gently wrap her hand around the woman's. She thought about the question she was supposed to place and decided upon the simplest of all.

"Am I supposed to be here?" she asked.

A design in ink began to branch out from a spot between the woman's shoulder blades. Claire watched with wide eyes as the black lines twisted themselves into the sleek form of the face on a watch. That wasn't what struck Claire as odd though; just above the hands was printed the name Sylar. Claire inhaled deeply as the truth of the matter set in. It said Sylar…. Not Gabriel, not the man she loved, but Sylar; what did it mean?

"What is that supposed to mean?" Claire asked doubtfully.

"This is your desire Claire," the woman told her; Peter saw the look in her eyes and immediately put a protective arm around his niece's shoulders.

"Come on… let's get out of here," he glared at the woman and led Claire away.

* * *

"What did she mean about seeing your desires?" Peter asked Claire. Clearly he thought she knew more about this than he did. Truthfully Claire had some ideas on the meaning behind the tattoo that had shown up, but she wasn't sure she was ready to confront the truth. Instead she lied.

"No idea," just that I desire Sylar. She still allowed herself to hope that it all might have meant something else. After all, they were at a carnival right? Everything was a game of chance; sometimes you lost, sometimes you won, but what if left up to interpretation?

"Are you in love with him?" Peter asked straightforwardly. Claire could sense more than just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but his face did not betray him. No one would ever be good enough for her in his eyes, and she would say the same about him. So really what did a character evaluation matter anyway? Still she wasn't ready to say it aloud.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Claire finally applied with a sense of finality. Peter picked up on it; he could read her pretty well. It was unnerving for her to know that he could see right through the carefully constructed lies she had attempted to surround herself with; to protect herself of course. Peter knew when and when not to press matters with her though, and he noticeably backed off this time.

"This place is starting to creep me out," he said. "I think we should leave." Peter was looking for an escape; he looked ready to leave since they had arrived, but still; he wasn't wrong. This place was starting to do things to her as well. Her head felt even more fuzzy and diluted than it had before she came. It seemed that she did however receive the answer Sylar had wanted her to. Claire looked down at her nearly empty box of popcorn.

"Yeah, I guess it is time to go," she sighed.

Claire had expected something else, something more solid, and as if on cue Samuel approached them then. Once again Claire was taken aback by his silent comings and goings.

"Claire, come and meet the rest of my family," he requested. "We're just having dinner." He smiled wide and led a reluctant Claire and Peter toward a large group of people. Some were sitting around a large far, sipping ale from pewter tankards, and others were dining in small groups outside of their trailers. Although no one was excessively friendly, everyone seemed to treat each other with respect. It was just like the dinners Claire used to have in the Bennet household, but on a much larger scale. Seeing the wondering look on Claire's face, Samuel came up behind her and clamped a hand down on her shoulder.

"We don't profess to offer much, but love we have; an ample supply," Samuel told her; his voice colored with pride.

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but then one face in particular caught her eye. The entire world ceased to exist as Claire remembered old photographs of her mother and father; the ones she had found in the box of belongings she was given with the watch. Claire's stride lengthened as she made her way over to the woman she at that moment believed to be her mother. The woman was the only person not otherwise absorbed in some activity; she had been staring intently albeit pityingly at Claire; it was a look Claire did not quite understand, but she felt reassurance in their attentions being mutually absorbed.

"Hi," Claire said shyly as she stood before her. How did you even try to tell a virtual stranger that you thought them to be your mother? Luckily for Claire, she didn't have to; after Claire had uttered that single greeting word, the woman looked at her more closely, and something shifted in her countenance. She looked proud but for some reason that would only make sense in a place like this; she didn't seem to be surprised by Claire's presence in the least.

"Claire," she breathed.

* * *

Claire and Peter sat with her mother Meredith inside of her trailer. They each sipped on a cup of tea to fill the awkward silences that fell between them.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Claire finally started.

Her mother looked down sadly at her cup of tea, "I wish I could say the same," she said apologetically. Her strong southern drawl was tainted by sorrow.

"What do you mean?" Claire asked curiously.

"Never mind that now. We've still got time." Claire began to worry upon seeing her mother unable to form a complete smile; she looked so sad.

"Time for what?"

"I just never thought this would happen. You're sitting inches away from me," she laughed and shook her head; trying to brush of the surreal nature of the situation as was awkward for both of them. "You're so beautiful," she smiled. "Are you a good student?"

"I guess so… I'm a freshman at Stanford. I'm studying biochemistry," Claire informed her.

"I bet you're all kinds of popular," her mother's tone was excited as she continued to guess things about her.

"Yeah… well I'm a cheerleader," Claire explained awkwardly. "Actually that's sort of the reason I'm here… I wanted to find out more about who I am… why I'm so different." Another awkward pause fell between them, so Claire took her turn to speak again, "so how did you end up here?"

"After I lost you I just started runnin', I finally came here a couple of months ago." It was clearly a subject she wanted to avoid. Her eyes shifted off to the side and she found a spot on the floor to distract herself with; finally she looked at Peter instead.

"So is this your boyfriend Claire?" Meredith asked a little more cheerfully; trying to change the subject. Peter choked on his tea and looked at Claire with wide eyes.

"Um…" Claire thought about it for a moment. It might be easier to explain that she had brought her boyfriend as opposed to a bodyguard. She had a feeling most girls didn't travel around with the company of their young and attractive uncle. Besides, what was one more secret; especially from family? Such were the ways of the world. "Yes he is," Claire decided to tell her and grabbed his hand tightly as if to tell him to play along. "This is my boyfriend Peter." Peter's tense mouth barely made it into a forced but feeble smile as he went along with Claire's claim.

"Hello," he finally gave a weak greeting to his brother's old flame. Meredith turned her attention back to Claire and gave her a look that loudly said that she had found quite the catch. Claire swallowed awkwardly and shrank in her seat; feeling for all the world like she would rather be in her room studying than forcing herself to yet again subject someone she cared about to such out of depth deception.

"And your father?" That got Claire's attention; she immediately snapped her head up to look at her mother. "I mean your adoptive father… does he know you're here?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah my dad knows I'm here; though he doesn't know where exactly here is." Claire thought about it for a moment, "actually, I'm not sure anyone knows where here is," she elaborated with a short laugh.

"I'm sorry Claire; I don't suppose you have the time?" Meredith asked sweetly.

"Oh yeah…" she glanced down at Gabriel's watch. 'Always working perfectly,' she thought. "It's half past seven," she answered promptly. Meredith stood up quickly and pulled Claire into a tight hug. When she released her from the embrace; she still held her at arms length and looked intently into her eyes.

"Claire listen to me," she said very clearly. "You need to get out of here; right now." Claire was hurt and confused; after so long she finally had the chance to meet her mother, and she wanted her to leave.

"I don't under—" Claire began to reply, but Meredith was having no argument from her.

"Trust me Claire; right now." She hurriedly pushed both Peter and Claire out a back exit, but they didn't make it more than a few feet out of the trailer before they were surrounded. Claire's disorientation at being hurried out in such a fashion only continued to increase as she realized that both her and Peter were surrounded by 6 or so of the same exact man.

"What's going on?" Peter asked as he pushed Claire behind him protectively; prepared to fight and lose to the six clones. Once again with uncannily perfect timing; Samuel appeared in front of them.

"You're going to do so much for our family Claire," Samuel told her reverently. Claire felt a needle sink into her arm as her ears began to ring and her head started to spin before the world completely faded away.

* * *

Claire woke up on the ground with her hands and feet bound; she writhed and tried to force herself to stand up, but something was preventing her from doing so. Claire glanced back over her shoulder to see what was going on; only to see Peter stuck in the same position. They were both tied to a large wooden post. Claire was hopelessly confused; she started to think that her father didn't know the full extent of what he was saying when he informed her that some people never came back from this carnival. Claire quickly attempted to cycle through all of the horror movies she had seen in the past, but no carnivals came to mind. She was on her own for this one.

"Peter!" She awkwardly yelled in his ear. He was still out; clearly his secondhand healing ability didn't work as well as hers. "Peter!" she tried again. Finally he stirred a little bit.

"Oh good!" You're awake, "Here I thought I was the one that was supposed to be protected," she drawled sarcastically.

"Where are we?" Peter immediately snapped back to attentiveness.

"Where do you think we are? We're still at the carnival, in a tent somewhere; probably being held hostage, as I can think of no other reason for our being taken prisoner." Claire was annoyed to say the very least, but it wasn't the first time she had been held hostage. With her father working for the company as he did, there were always people after her family; she was surprised that the Petrellis had not faced a similar problem being in politics.

"So what do we do now?" Peter asked. Claire was beginning to think him entirely useless. With the macho, overprotective façade he tried so hard to maintain long gone; Peter was beginning to seem more of a nuisance than a help.

"What powers do you have right now?" Claire demanded.

"Flight, camouflage, and yours," Peter replied warily. Claire rolled her eyes and groaned in annoyance.

"Alright," she considered them for a moment, "well those are entirely useless in this situation," she tried her best to think of a plan. Odds were if they were here for a few more days both her father and Sylar would notice that something was up; they would at least try to come after her. The only problem now was that she was not sure that either of them knew the way to get there; let alone their location in the first place.

"Coming up with an escape plan?" A familiar and thick accented voice interrupted Claire's thoughts. She glared up at Samuel.

"Is this how you treat family?" Claire asked snidely.

"I'm sorry Claire. I truly am, but I need to do what is necessary to protect my family." Claire snorted in disgust; his apology actually sounded sincere.

"What do you mean?"

"It's that father of yours Claire," he explained.

"Who—Nathan?" Claire was confused. Her dad had briefly mentioned that Nathan was not someone she should trust in these matters, but she had no idea how bottomless those cautionary words could really be, after all; he was still her father wasn't he?

"Nathan Petrelli," he spat the name distastefully. "You see Claire," he began, "your father wants to take my family; lock us up… run tests on us… try to make us normal." He turned his eyes on her, "but if we have you—well that's just a bit of incentive to leave us on our own for the time being now isn't it?"

"Yeah?" Claire sneered. "Well I've got all the time in the world," she continued confidently; knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before either her father or Sylar came to rescue her. She remembered all the times her father had rushed off to save her. He dropped everything, and all the while he knew that she couldn't be killed; he just didn't want her to get hurt. Claire thought of her father with fond memories now; he was her hero, that much was for sure. Here was the real question? Who cared more about their obsession, the hero or the villain? Who would be the one to come after her first?

* * *

Claire couldn't think of a more boring person to be tied up to for a week; Peter did little else but complain. She shuddered to imagine a world where it was only her and him left to entertain each other; what a tragedy that would be. It was funny how the more time you spent with a person, the less you seemed to enjoy their company—it became less… novel; given that your adoration of them is more of an infatuation as opposed to a sincere affection. It was all about time; didn't Sylar have that right?

"Do you want to play truth or dare?" Claire asked Peter jokingly.

"Very funny," he growled and was silent for a moment… "Truth," he ceded. Claire managed a laugh at that.

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"Oh come on Claire!" Peter became flustered. "That's… that's inappropriate," he sputtered.

"You said truth," she reminded him.

"As opposed to 'dare—get me the fuck out of here?'" he grumbled sardonically.

"Don't worry about it," Claire told him flippantly, though truthfully a week without food or water was beginning to take its toll on both of them; the hot sun beaming down upon them dehydrated them both much faster than they would have thought. What better person to hold hostage though than a person who could regenerate? They were completely maintenance free and had an unlimited shelf life; you could keep them for your entire life, and still die guilt free knowing that they will be free to live their lives again someday without worries about lost youth and time. While Claire was busy trying to keep herself entertained between vomiting and passing out (a routine which she was becoming quite used to), her body was constantly regenerating itself, only to repeat the same process over and over again because she still didn't have enough water in her system for it to run properly.

"Do you think we're going to get out of here alive?" Peter asked her. She actually took a moment to figure it out.

"I'm pretty sure my ability won't let me get past vomiting and lethargy as far as dehydration goes; death seems out of the question at this point." She was beginning to sound like Gabriel; cold and calculative. 'If I only had a heart,' she thought.

"I was looking for a little bit of hope Claire," he pointed out.

She laughed and repeated her unspoken statement aloud, "if I only had a heart,' she told him.

"What?" Peter asked her in a tone that clearly implied she was insane or at the very least delirious.

"Wait! Be quiet," she commanded. Claire heard the welcome sound of a gun shot followed by screams; she never though it would be a sound she would relish, but right about now; it announced the presence of at least one man she most certainly wanted to see at the moment. "I knew it," she murmured and let her body relax; smiling

* * *

Claire opened up her eyes to the most welcome sight she believed she had ever seen.

"Sylar," she mumbled happily as he helped her up. "You came for me." Her voice was sounded awful, of that she was sure; there was not a drop of moisture left in her throat. As if reading her mind, he held up a cup to her lips; Claire drank the water appreciatively.

"Not so fast Claire," he warned.

"My body works just fine," she told him, "like a car running on empty."

"My indestructible Claire," he looked down and smiled at her.

"Claire?" Another familiar voice asked in alarm. "Step aside Sylar," Noah growled menacingly. Claire's eyes grew wide as she realized that they had actually come together.

"I'm taking Claire home," Sylar stated firmly. Claire saw her father cringe at the way Sylar had said her name; with a tone that could only be described as religious.

"I don't think so," Noah challenged him and reached for his gun. Sylar immediately threw it out of his hands with a simple flick of his hand.

"I beg your pardon?" he gave Noah a quizzical look. Feeling almost entirely regenerated; Claire stepped between them.

"Is someone going to explain to me what exactly is going on?" she snapped and attempted to level them both with a stern look, but to no avail; neither of them backed down.

"We have to get out of here now," Noah explained hastily. "Nathan will be here any moment."

"Will somebody please explain to me what my father has to do with any of this?" Once again Claire felt entirely out of the loop. Caught in a dangerous situation because she didn't know all of the facts.

"There's no time Claire," Noah insisted. "Come on Claire, let's go." He roughly grabbed her arm and started to tug her away from the scene. Peter was still on the ground and unconscious.

"Wait!" She protested. "You're just leaving Peter here?" She switched angry eyes between her father and Sylar; neither of them seemed concerned in the least.

"Nathan isn't going to hurt his own brother," Noah mentioned flippantly. Claire wasn't convinced. Clearly he had no regard for family if he would harm his daughter, and Nathan actually liked her. Claire silently implored Sylar to help her out.

"Frankly I don't give a damn about Peter Petrelli," Sylar responded to her unspoken plea. "He couldn't even protect you Claire. Peter is useless to me." A flash of anger ran through Claire at that. God damn sociopaths—they only cared about themselves.

"Yes but not to me," Claire stated clearly. Her and Sylar locked eyes for a moment; he looked positively livid.

"Fine!" he snarled angrily and went back to get Peter; leaving Claire in the equally capable hands of her father; she imagined the internal victory he must have been celebrating at having his daughter finally choose him over Sylar.

"You didn't think I would make it that easy did you?" A smug voice came from behind Claire.

* * *

Tbc.


	8. Hunted

I told you the twists would come.

Please read and enjoy.

If possible, reviews are always appreciated.

Much love,

-Descartre

* * *

"You didn't think I would make it that easy did you?" a smug voice said behind Claire.

She whipped herself around to face the newest presence only to find that she had no idea who he was. She found herself staring into the face of a scary looking older man. Although he couldn't have stood much more than a half a foot above her; there was something in the man's harsh eastern European facial features and the tell-tale dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep that screamed volumes about how dangerous he really was. His eyes were a piercing blue and as cold as ice; Claire was frightened at the lack of humanity she saw in them.

"Danko," Claire's father growled beside her. Claire ascertained it to be the intimidating man's name.

"Hello Noah," he sneered back. The man nodded toward Sylar in the background, "I see you're hanging with a new crowd these days old friend."

"We were never friends," Noah seethed; more for Claire's benefit than anyone else's.

"What is this? Was my father too busy to come on his own?" Claire asked Danko cheekily. Her words were more confident than she was. He laughed darkly at her question.

"Your father doesn't tell you much now does he Claire?" Danko leisurely put a cigarette in his mouth, "the herd has been thinned out," he began to explain, and then he lit it; taking a long pull before exhaling in satisfaction. He stood his ground confidently when he gave the command, "take them down."

* * *

Claire woke up with a strange feeling in her gut; not sick exactly, but it was quite pain either. It felt like somebody had their hands tinkering around with her internal organs. She tried to sit up, but her limbs were far too heavy to allow for any movement. Claire sighed internally and managed to pry her eyelids open. Through her blurred perception, she could make out a clinical white ceiling and some large rectangular fluorescents; she could have been anywhere. If she continued to wake up in unexplained locations every time she closed her eyes, she might completely lose her grip on reality, and on herself.

After several minutes of commanding her muscles to respond, Claire finally willed her body to erect itself into a sitting position. A man in a white coat had his hands buried in her exposed thoracic cavity; he ripped his eyes away from his work to look into hers. Claire was shocked to see his face full of fear and wonder; she had never elicited that kind of reaction from anybody. Panicking, Claire roughly shoved him away from her; not bothering to notice when he slammed into a table and brought it down with him.

She was too distracted to notice his writhing body on the floor as she laboriously attempted to shove her intestines back into her belly and folded the skin and muscle back into place. She healed speedily as expected, but Claire was still bewildered; not only had she just seen her innards, but she had touched them and not felt an ounce of pain. More questions needed asking and she thought she knew where she could get the answers from.

Claire looked down at the man she had attacked and gasped when she saw that a pool of blood had began to gather underneath his body.

"What?" Claire murmured to herself and hastily moved to turn the man over and investigate.

She immediately wished she hadn't. There were various surgical tools embedded in his back. "Oh god," Claire whispered in horror and sank down next to him to help him, but it was already too late. The man choked on his blood before his body went limp. Claire looked upon the scene in horror as for the second time, she watched the life leave a person's eyes; just like a flame going out. She shook him violently as if trying to wake him, "please come back," she begged and roughly slapped him across the face. "Wake up, wake up, wake up! I'm sorry," she wailed. "I didn't mean to."

"Oh Claire," someone spoke over her weeping. "Dear Claire. Don't worry about it. We'll get someone to clean this up right away." The man's voice was pitying albeit in way much more mocking than any other.

"Who are you?" Claire rasped; she turned on him covered in blood.

"My name is Arthur Petrelli," he answered astutely. Everything about the man screamed his authority; his voice, his suit, even his face—he exuded power.

"Arthur Petrelli," Claire breathed, "…So that makes you my grandfather then." She chuckled dryly. "Are you and dear old dad working together then?" He ignored her question.

"You're here to help people Claire, to even out the playing field for all mankind." His eyes held a faraway look as he imagined the new and improved future he sought out; the one he planned to be in control of.

"I don't understand. Why me?" More than anything, Claire wanted to be angry, to cover up her fear with a hunger for revenge. Everything around her was changing so fast though, and it refused to slow down. All she could do now was ask questions as everyone had their way with her, and no one would explain to her the simplest one of them all. Why her?

"You're special Claire," he said adoringly.

A lump rose up in Claire's throat as she heard Gabriel's words coming from this man; they seemed too common lately. She didn't want to be different in the first place, and she certainly didn't want to be special. A couple of months ago, Claire would have worried that she wasn't wearing the right shoes. Now she was afraid that she was the wrong species.

"I'm just a cheerleader," Claire protested weakly. "What do you want me to do anyway?"

"It's not what you will do, it's what you have," Arthur supplied vaguely.

"What I have," she stammered. "You—you want my ability?"

"With your blood, we can perfect the formula; we can make a new world."

At that moment another man burst through the door; Claire immediately noticed three things about him; the first was that he too was wearing a white lab coat, the second was very good looking; he had thick dark curls that complimented his dark skin and pleasant brown eyes, and finally she could see that he looked wholly and completely pissed off.

"I want out Arthur!" he yelled as he angrily strode up to him.

"I don't think you're in the position to be making such big decisions like that," he replied snidely. Claire sat back in confusion as she watched them battle it out with their words and their power struggle.

"I want him dead! Sylar killed my father, and now he's here," the man seethed with a tone marked by malice.

"That's just too bad. He has something that I want, and I have something that you want—don't I Mohinder?"

"You promised me the catalyst weeks ago!" Mohinder roared.

"And I have finally found it," Arthur said portentously and turned his gaze toward Claire.

The other man finally seemed to notice Claire's presence for the first time since he had made his appearance as he turned his eyes on her.

"Claire Bennet," he breathed incredulously. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "Why couldn't I see it before?" He approached Claire and helped her to stand up; gripping her firmly by the shoulders. "The healing properties in your blood should reverse the negative side-effects of the formula." His tone was hurried and excited. "You can fix me Claire," he declared with reverence and gazed wonderingly into her eyes, perhaps enraptured by what he saw there. The spell was broken when he took her hands in his and suddenly turned to Arthur Petrelli. "I should like to start right away. I have it this time," he rolled his thumbs over the backs of Claire's hands. "I can feel it."

* * *

Claire shivered against the cold metal of the table in Mohinder's laboratory; it was uncomfortable, but she relished the sensation. Cold was so close to pain, yet so far away; she was still scared. What was this formula he spoke of and why was it so important? Better yet; what might the repercussions of such a formula actually be? As far as she could see; these weren't the good guys. Since Claire had found out abilities, the man in front of her was the closest thing she had seen to a monster yet.

What Claire did know was that she was very important to whatever they were doing here. She didn't know how long her free pass would last; especially after they got what they wanted from her.

So you're working with my grandfather," Claire mused as the man whom she assumed was named Mohinder analyzed some data on one of the man computers in the room. He barely lifted his eyes from the screen as he haphazardly answered her question.

"I prefer to think he's working for me," he informed Claire.

She wasn't convinced of any of this; nothing about this situation made a lick of sense. It seemed that nobody was willing to label themselves as having an actual side. Good or evil? Hero or villain? Nobody wanted to draw or cross those lines. She supposed it all depended on who had what you wanted. With politics like these; all that mattered was you and the well being of the things you cared about.

"So…" Claire started awkwardly, "if you are going to be cutting into me and getting to know my insides so well; it only seems fair for you to tell me your name," she ebbed.

"Oh that won't be necessary Claire. I'm just going to do a few tests; take a sample of your blood," he smiled comfortingly at her. "That is okay isn't it?" he asked hopefully. When Claire merely frowned in response; he realized that he had gone about answering her question in the wrong way. Claire needed to trust him; this girl, the key to his future was of the utmost importance, and he would not do well to scorn his savior. "My name is Dr. Mohinder Suresh; I'm a geneticist," he explained. Claire visibly relaxed at that, but then something occurred to her.

"Suresh?" she breathed. "As in Chandra Suresh?"

"You know my father?" he stopped his work and immediately gave her all of his attention. He looked at her with wide and curious eyes; his accent lending excitement to his tone.

"Oh…" Claire hated to let him down. "No—I'm sorry," she continued. "I read some of his book though; it was fascinating."

"Do you study genetics Miss Bennet?" he asked curiously.

"I did… at Stanford," she replied awkwardly. "Until all of this happened to me."

"Claire…" he said quietly and reverently. "This didn't happen to you; it's simply the way you are, the way the world was meant to be. Surely you know that evolution is absolutely inevitable given enough time."

Claire took a moment to think about what he said to her. Truthfully she had never thought of it that way; that this was just a normal part of evolution. The only thing that made it different was the fact that the change seemed so dramatic. In all actuality, it was just one minor change in a person's DNA; one gene that was different than everybody else's.

"That's what I keep trying to tell myself," Claire muttered. "It doesn't work though." Her tone was sad and distant. Mohinder looked as though he wished to cheer her up; to make her smile. "You don't think I'm a freak then?" Claire wondered aloud. She would be lying if she said the question wasn't at least slightly rhetorical as she momentarily forgot about his strange skin condition.

"A freak!" Mohinder exclaimed in horror. "Claire your blood is the key to taking away the negative side effects of these abilities. You are the ground wire; don't you see that? You will enable at least one person to return to a normal life."

"This serum…" she mused, "It doesn't…" the words failed to make it past her lips on the first attempt, but she drew in a shaky breath and tried again; she needed to know. "It doesn't take away abilities does it?" her voice was colored with excitement. Gabriel could come back if Sylar was gone; without his powers, he would be normal again.

"Take away abilities?" he asked in disbelief. "Oh heavens no!" He laughed emphatically. "I've been working to give people abilities."

"But is it possible?" Claire asked determinedly. "Can you take away someone's abilities?"

"I can't imagine why you would want to do such a thing. The way your body works; Claire it's incredible. The ability to heal from any wound; to be immortal… Think of how much you could learn! You would have time to be all-knowing and powerful; you could be God," he whispered in amazement, as if realizing this himself for the first time.

"Not mine—" Claire left off with no intention to explain herself; after hearing what this man had said to her grandfather, she assumed it wouldn't be the greatest of ideas to mention Sylar or Gabriel around him.

"Either way," he turned back to his work. "It's scientifically impossibly to remove abilities; you can't remove genes, you can only activate, deactivate, and extract them," he informed her as if it were common knowledge, but his tone was polite nonetheless.

Claire's spirits dropped as the reality of the situation set in; there was a good chance that she would never have her Gabriel again, especially after this. Claire didn't even know that she would get out of her alive. She had to admit to herself though; it did seem that this man, Mohinder Suresh had a soft spot for her. Mohinder seemed to be obsessed with her already, and he barely knew anything about her… well her personality anyway.

"Well let's get on with it then," Claire supplied flippantly and offered him her arm. Mohinder gave her an apologetic smile as he prepared a syringe to extract the first sample of her blood.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," someone growled as Mohinder flew across the room, crashing into the countertop. The ability was there, but the voice was off. Claire wished she wasn't strapped down so she could turn around and face her rescuer, but she could only writhe against her bonds impatiently. Then the straps were telekinetically unfastened and she was free to escape. Claire whipped her head around immediately and found herself confused once again.

"Peter?" she cried in disbelief. "How did you—" she started to say, but then she noticed something about the stranger that Peter didn't have. A large and hideous scar marred his once handsome face. "No…" she corrected herself. "Who are you?"

"It's me Claire, it's Peter." He informed her impatiently. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah nice try," Claire sniffed. "Peter doesn't have a scar, and he sure as hell couldn't have gotten one in the last day," she reasoned.

I'm from the future," he attempted to explain, but it was lost on her as Claire looked at him doubtfully. "Do you really want to argue this right now, or do you want to get out of here?"

"You're right," she leapt off of the metal operating table as he pulled her out of the room and hastily led her down the concrete hallway in the research facility. "Wait!" Claire protested, "what about Sylar? We can't leave without him," she insisted.

"Sylar is fine. I'll explain it later." Peter regarded her as he put a hand on her shoulder and shut his eyes.

* * *

Claire frantically spun around in a circle; she was positively bewildered as she found herself in a completely different environment than seconds before. "Peter, what did you do?" she asked as she turned around, but found herself gazing at nothing more than her old house in Odessa.

"What the hell?" Claire spat at no one in particular.

"Who's there?" Gabriel's familiar voice asked as he strode into her old dining room.

"SYLAR?" Claire nearly yelled as her eyes threatened to fall out of their sockets. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

"Claire," he regarded her scornfully. "Please leave," he requested. On the surface, the application seemed polite, but Claire knew him well enough to recognize the warning behind his words.

"I'm not going anywhere, this is my house," she protested. "What are you doing in my house."

They stood there and sized each other up. Claire burst into laughter upon seeing what he was wearing. This definitely wasn't Sylar; this was Gabriel… a much stranger, dorkier Gabriel. Her amusement grew when she noticed what the apron he was wearing read, 'World's Greatest Cook,' he was even wearing his old glasses. Claire was overwhelmed by joy as she stepped forward to embrace him. Gabriel almost recoiled when she put her arms around him.

"Gabriel," she murmured into his neck as she stood up on her toes and pressed her body up against hers. "You're back," she shook her head in disbelief. "God, how I've missed you," her tear-filled voice pierced the silence.

He was stiff underneath her touch as she gave him a soft kiss that he did not respond to. Gabriel pulled back and just stared calculatingly into her eyes; trying to figure out some grand equation. Claire didn't know what to make of the situation; all she knew, all she cared about was that her Gabriel was back. He reached out with hesitant fingers to touch her hair and looked down at her body clothed in a blood-soaked hospital gown.

"Claire," he whispered huskily and telekinetically threw her against the wall. She looked at him fearfully upon his violent reaction to her presence. He set on her with a predatory look in his eyes; the one she recognized from when Sylar had come out that day at the beach.

"Gabriel," she pleaded.

"When are you from?" he asked as if he knew something that she didn't and as though the answer would explain everything.

"When?" Claire asked in confusion, but opted to answer the question anyway. She certainly wasn't in the position to deny him anything he wanted; she would do anything for him. She looked down at the watch he had given her before they had initially parted ways and carefully removed it from her wrist before placing it in his hand. "Last time I checked it was October of 2009," she informed him as he examined his old watch.

"I gave this to you... four years ago," he told her.

"Four years? You gave that to me a little over a week ago," she replied warily; each word pronounced in full as if speaking slowly would lend more sense to the situation. "What is going on? Why are you in my house?" She began to tear up again. "I was in that lab, and Dr. Suresh was going to run some tests. Then Peter showed up, but he wasn't Peter... and now I'm-- I'm here, and you're here, and none of it makes any sense," she rambled.

"You are Claire four years ago?" he checked again.

"I told you! Gabriel, I'm just-- I'm scared, and I want out," she sniveled and shrank back against the wall he had thrown her against.

"I never thought I would hear you say that again," he laughed humorlessly. "That you're scared."

Claire turned watery eyes on him and it completely shattered his dark pretense; a glimpse of the man she knew could be seen in him now.

"Oh come here Claire," he gave in and pulled her into his arms; comfortingly stroking her hair as he held her close.

"I missed you," Claire told him again as she cried. "I love you." She tilted his face down so she could give him another kiss, but this one was different; it was passionate and desperate. Gabriel returned her kiss eagerly for a few second, but then he tried to pull away suddenly, as if remembering where he was. Claire wasn't having it; she wound her hands tight around his neck and melded herself to him.

"Don't," Gabriel growled against her lips between frenzied kisses. "I'm not him anymore Claire," he managed to get out; Claire was still undeterred. "I'm not Sylar," he panted. Claire actually pulled back at that last statement so she could look into his eyes; there she saw both men, and it was true that she loved them both. She smiled weakly at him.

"I meant what I said then," she breathed.

"What?" he asked distractedly and pulled her body closer to his; running his fingers through her long silken hair and bringing it up to his face as if savoring an old memory.

"I love you Gabriel," she said his name like a prayer.

"Claire," he muttered helplessly and hungrily attacked her mouth again.

They knocked over almost every bit of furniture in the room as they fought for control in the small space. Gabriel pulled Claire down to the floor on top of him, grateful that she had so little clothing for him to remove. He gazed at her exposed flesh in amazement. She was just as he had remembered, his Claire; forever beautiful, strong, and unchanging. He actually whimpered at the loss when Claire pulled back slightly. She twined her fingers with his and pinned his arms up near his head, stretching across his slender and well-muscled body.

"Say it," she commanded; almost snarling. She had intended to stop, but was unable to keep herself from undressing him as well. Claire busied herself with the buttons of his shirt as she ground her hips down on his still clothed member; still able to feel the heat from his body.

"Say what?" he groaned; Claire's fingers brushed lightly against his thighs as she helped him remove his trousers.

The light colored clothing she found him wearing didn't suit him at all, and she was eager to get it off of him, though she could not honestly say that other things weren't on her mind. Claire couldn't help but to caress and taste every inch of the newly exposed skin. Their coupling was raw and animalistic; they needed each other and neither one could get close enough. Claire climbed up his body and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she leant forward and trailed a path from his collarbone to his jaw with her lips before stopping at his ear.

"Tell me you love me," she whispered hotly. His eyes widened fractionally with fear but they were both too far into the moment to let a few words stop them. He roughly grabbed both of her shoulders and gave her a violent and slightly painful kiss that didn't seem to suit the man he had tried to become.

"I love you," he growled and pushed himself up inside of her with a sharp inhale.

Claire bit down on her lip and relished the feeling of completion that he had given her. She raked her finger tips lightly up his chest and knitted her hands in his hair that had gone awry. As if reading her mind; Gabriel leaned forward to meet her mouth. They continued to battle with teeth and tongues as he positioned his hands on her wide hips to help her find a rhythm that worked for the both of them. Claire gasped at the new angle and shuddered when he removed his hands to trail them up her spine. Gabriel played with her hair and pushed away the golden locks that had fallen across her breasts so he could caress the flesh underneath them; eliciting a soft keening sound from Claire.

When the familiar feeling began to creep up inside of her and a blissful heat began to spread out from her core, Claire pulled Gabriel close in an almost painfully tight embrace before abruptly pushing him back to the tile floor so she could ride out her orgasm. Gabriel resigned himself to lying upon the cold surface that burned his heated skin. He watched her seize up with a silent scream and toss her head back as the strong wave of pleasure coursed violently through her body. Gabriel thrust into her a few more times before his own climax came and he screwed his eyes shut with the intensity of it.

They both collapsed at the same time and Claire rested her chin against his chest; gazing at him and in awe of the extraordinarily peaceful expression he wore.

"What the hell is this?" An angry female voice sounded from the doorway.

* * *

Tbc.


	9. Differences

Hey sorry it took so long to update guys. I haven't had a lot of time for writing lately. You're welcome to take it off my hands and finish though if you want. (:

As usual please read and enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" A young woman's voice sounded angrily from the doorway.

The last thing Claire wanted to do in that moment was to peel herself off of Gabriel, but her body reacted on instinct as she immediately snatched the closest article of clothing off of the floor. She fought the urge to laugh as she realized she had picked up Gabriel's trousers, leaving him completely exposed and vulnerable. She discarded them again, and instead slipped on his t-shirt; wishing she could take a moment to savor his scent.

"Who are you?" Claire asked with more than a little defensiveness. She took this girl to be Gabriel's current girlfriend, but he was hers first, and she wouldn't let this waif of a girl take him away from her.

"That's exactly what I would like to know," the girl snarled and looked accusingly at the man Claire was still straddling. "Gabriel?" she asked snidely. "Who is this?" recognition set into her face and her anger only seemed to worsen as she realized who she was looking at. "Who are you?" she asked in an unnaturally high voice. "Are you…?" She turned back to Gabriel, "Is this Claire?" She was clearly amused.

"That would be me," Claire answered the question that wasn't directed at her with a saccharine smile.

"Elle…" Gabriel breathed as he slipped on his pants. He tried to mediate her, not knowing if he was to break down and beg for her forgiveness or call the whole thing quits. Not yet anyway.

Elle leveled him with a deadly stare and raised her hands to empty as much energy as she could muster into him. Gabriel screamed in agony as his skin crackled with electricity and his flesh began to separate itself from the bone. Elle let off then and advanced upon him.

"Was that good for you?" Elle screamed at Gabriel, "I bet she can't do that. She's not special."

Gabriel panted as he managed to heave his torso upward into a sitting position, weakly supporting himself with shaky arms.

"Claire is more special than you will ever be," he spat through tightly clenched teeth.

A look somewhere between hurt and blind fury crossed Elle's face as she set another stream of energy into Gabriel's chest. Claire began to worry, 'why was he letting this woman hurt him? Did he feel remorse about what they had done?' She didn't have time to dwell on the thought as Elle's voice pierced through the room again.

"Say that again!" she demanded screeching. "Tell me I'm not important Gabriel. Tell me you don't love me." She slapped him then, and Claire didn't know whether to laugh or to beat this girl to death. It reminded her of when she had struck Gabriel at the coast, and once again Gabriel was allowing it to happen.

One thing was different though; he seemed to be letting her hurt him out of guilt, not out of love and perseverance. This girl was just watered-down Claire; no wonder he had been keeping her by his side. A fresh bubble of anger rose up in Claire's chest as she lost control over herself and leapt on the girl, throwing her off Gabriel and taking the bursts of electricity into her self.

"How dare you hurt him," Claire growled dangerously as she drove the girls face into tile floor repeatedly, not bothering to stop when her blood began to spill out. Claire's attention was caught though, when the girl's body seemingly began to charge up. That couldn't be good, even for her; survival instincts were messy.

Claire looked around the room for anything that could be of use to her in that moment, there was little left intact, but she found exactly what she was looking for. She took a moment to jump up and reach for a miraculously unbroken vase on the window sill, deftly tossing the contents on the girl still bleeding on the ground.

Elle's bloodcurdling scream filled the room as her own explosion of energy was misdirected into her own body. When she managed to recover slightly, still wheezing from the painful shock she had received, she turned fearful eyes on Claire.

"You're not going to kill me?" she asked.

It was Claire's turn to be surprised as she took a step back and looked upon what she had done.

"I'm not a killer," she protested weakly as the memory of the man she had accidentally killed only three hours of her life before sprang to the front of her mind. Claire's eyes grew wide with horror. "I… I'm sorry," she uttered and ran out of the back door.

* * *

The soles on Claire's feet repeatedly tore themselves apart against the hot Odessa pavement as she ran as fast as she could; she was trying to find a place to go, somewhere she could escape to. She didn't know how long she had been running or to where, but truthfully she didn't rightly care.

Claire ran until she reached the edge of the only wooded area in odessa, seeking shelter from the changed world. It didn't occur to Claire that this is where she would go if she needed to be alone. She often frequented the spot as a child when her parents were fighting and she desired an out.

"Peter," she turned around and bellowed into the city behind her. "Peter get your ass back here. Get me out of here!" her cries were muddled by tears, becoming more unintelligable the more she thought about it. "Why did you bring me here?" she choked out, asking no one in particular. She knew she wouldn't get any answers; she never did, not until it was too late for her to change anything. Claire allowed her legs to carry her into the small forest on the Southern side of town.

"Claire," Gabriel's voice sighed in relief behind her. Her heart sank as she realized she wasn't getting out of here. Claire reluctantly turned around to gaze at him with a hollow expression.

"How did you find me?" her voice was sad and empty.

"It's a pretty small town," Gabriel explained, "and I can hold my own."

He held up a set of car keys as if to explain how he had caught up to her. Claire scoffed at that. The all powerful Sylar driving to pursue a stupid little girl lost in the woods; it was an entertaining thought, but he wasn't Sylar anymore, was he?

"I want to go home," Claire finally resolved herself to explaining.

"Where is home?" he asked. I can make sure you get there.

Claire sobbed loudly upon registering his statement. Gabriel had no intention to stay with her. She was sure that she would never see him again, and when she finally had they chance, and they had shared a wonderful time together; she had to face the fact that they still couldn't be together.

"I don't know," Claire whimpered; she hated the fact that she sounded like a lost little girl. Maybe that was what he liked about his new love, Elle seemed to have everything figured out.

"You don't know," he reiterated, clearly trying to make sense of things himself. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I told you!" she insisted. "I don't know! Claire fought back another set of tears that threatened to spring forth.

"Claire," Gabriel breathed and enveloped her in his arms.

"You have to stop doing that," Claire told him.

"Why would I do that?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Because you're going to leave," she stated as if it were an irrefutable fact. Gabriel had to pull back a little bit at that.

"I used to tell you that," he mused aloud.

"I know," Claire replied sorrowfully. "Every time I told you that I loved you, but even though you wouldn't say it back; I knew you did. Even he did."

"He did?" Gabriel asked in surprise. Claire was taken aback that he still didn't know anything about Sylar.

"He saved me… a lot," Claire filled him in. "I… I couldn't love him though," she admitted.

"What I wasn't good enough for you?" some anger crept into Gabriel's tone and his grip tightened in a way that she would have expected pain if she could feel it. Claire didn't give into his childish outburst though.

"You're being weird," Claire said simply. He realized that she spoke the truth and loosened his grip on her a little bit. She brought up her hand to gently stroke his cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes remaining locked with his as her hand continued to trail down the front of his shirt. "I couldn't love him, because I was already in love…" she explained and took a step closer to him to press a chaste kiss against his lips, "with you Gabriel."

"Claire I…" he stammered.

"Do you love her?" she asked.

"No," his eyes shifted to the side as he fumbled with his hands; trying to figure out what to do with them. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"Me… and um… you. The reason I live—where I do. Claire, we had a son. Her mouth gaped open in a lack of response.

"You mean you and Elle?" she checked, anger coloring her voice. Gabriel looked at her pointedly.

"Who do you think I mean Claire?"

"A son?" she finally managed. "What? No! How?" she sputtered in a series of questions. "I can't have kids though right?"

"You can with someone who is also able to rapidly regenerate—someone who holds the same characteristics in their DNA" he explained.

Claire's eyes grew wide as the truth set in. How could she have allowed this to happen? Obviously she didn't, but apparently future Claire didn't seem to have such a problem with unprotected sex. Where did she go wrong? She wasn't old enough to have a baby. Despite her better judgment, Claire's maternal instinct jumped in.

"Where is he?" she demanded breathlessly. "I want to see him," she said. Claire felt the need to keep this little boy safe. This boy that was half of her and half of the most amazing man she had ever met; he was invaluable, and if he was anything like his father; potentially dangerous. Gabriel seemed to catch the look in her eye as a look of understanding washed across his face.

"That's what the other you thought too," he explained.

"What?" Claire was sure she hadn't said anything aloud.

"The other Claire… future Claire as you call her, thought the same thing. She took him."

"And you haven't gotten him back?" Claire growled menacingly. Before her stood the most powerful man in the world, at least in her time, and he had allowed their son to be taken from him.

"She's his mother too Claire," he replied defensively. Claire knew he was angry about the whole situation from the spark his eyes held, but there was more to this story.

"I don't give a damn. You let some woman take my child?" she began to sound hysterical; everybit taking on the role of an overbearing mother.

"Let's get something straight Claire," he started as he gave her a measuring look. "Me and you are not together anymore; not in any sense, what happened in the kitchen was a mistake. Future you… well you're a cold hearted bitch and if I so much as make any attempt to get _my_ son back, you've promised to kill him," he growled. "So don't come here and tell me that I'm not good enough when clearly you're the one who's too unstable to act human."

Claire took a step back with hurt all over her face. Gabriel really didn't love her anymore… not that she could blame him. Hell if she was him, she would probably hate her too. Maybe that was why Peter put her here. In any case, she was determined to find out.

"I'm going to get him back," Claire vowed quietly.

"Yeah? And how are you going to do that princess? You could barely handle Elle." Claire almost snarled at the name. Sure things changed over time, but how could Gabriel have ever settled for her? He was right, future Claire did have some experience on her, but she had a plan. "A plan," Gabriel repeated back to her doubtfully.

"What can you read minds or something?" she grumbled impatiently.

"I spent a little time with the NYPD… met a cop with a pretty spectacular gift."

"You killed him?" Claire murmured disapprovingly. Of course he did, after all he was Sylar when she left him last, and Sylar didn't give a damn about anyone or anything but himself… except her that was. He had told her that Gabriel didn't love her; now she had reason to believe him.

"No I didn't kill him," Gabriel answered in an annoyed tone. "Now let's hear this grand plan of yours."

"Can't you just pick it from my brain?" she returned his snide behavior. He turned his head to the side just fractionally and appeared to focus. He relaxed with a nervous laugh and a raised eyebrow, but he looked more impressed than doubtful now.

"You're okay with dyeing your hair?" he teased.

"What?" Claire responded with some residual irritation at his behavior, but it was so Gabrielesque that she almost had to smile. He reminded her of the first time she had met him. Still… what the hell was he talking about?

"You look a little bit different than the other Claire," Gabriel explained amusedly. "We have to go get you some new clothes, and fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Claire whined slightly.

"It's not brown," he explained.

"That's so not my color," she sniffed in distaste. "I didn't even know I could dye my hair."

"But you can bleach it?" he ragged on her.

"What?" Claire wore a slightly bemused expression. The smile she expected from him never came, instead he just seemed to disapprove of her for whatever he was about to reveal.

"Come on Claire. We _both_ know you're not a bottle blonde."

* * *

Claire wore nothing but a towel as Gabriel helped her evenly cover her hair with the dye they had bought from the store. She remembered her mother doing her hair countless times in this bathroom; it was full of memories. It seemed odd that Gabriel lived her now… even if they had lived there together at a time. The thought wandered away in her mind though as she focused on the sensation of Gabriel's fingers gently massaging her scalp, he was so good with his hands.

He immediately removed them upon catching her inappropriate thoughts and began to work the color evenly through the rest of the strands. He wasn't aware of the fact that she could see him in the mirror though, or that she could see the almost smile he wore on his face; not that she would ever say it aloud, but he wasn't a very good mind reader—intelligent men never were.

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you have just undermined my telepathic abilities because you also unintentionally gave me a compliment," he grinned slyly at her and gave her a look. "But I know your thoughts better than you do, and I also know where your mind went when you were thinking about my hands."

Claire flushed red mostly out of embarassment, but also from the anger that set in upon realizing that he really was giving her no privacy at all. Gabriel seemed to take the cue as he removed the gloves he had been wearing and opened the door to leave her there with her own thoughts.

"Wait!" Claire protested, "You're leaving me alone here?" she mumbled. "I still have another twenty minutes."

"Eighteen actually," he corrected, "and do you really want me to know what you're thinking about that shower?" he asked warily.

"No," God yes... please.

* * *

"Ugh... I look ridiculous," Claire grumbled after she tried on the clothes her and Gabriel had picked up for her; or rather her costume. It appeared to her that future Claire fancied herself a sort of super villain if her choice of dress was any indication. She looked in the mirror and shook her head, disapproving of her appearance.

Claire was clad head to toe in black leather and denim. Her hair was slicked back into a severe but undeniably practical dark ponytail, and her feet had been shoved into a comparatively ridiculous pair of high-heeled boots. She looked like an action figure, she thought.

"This is never going to work," Claire noted as she opened the door to meet a very distressed looking Gabriel on the other side.

His expression was that of a man who wanted revenge, but also of one that had been broken by life. Claire had the overwhelming desire to reach out and comfort him, to build him back up again into the man she once knew, but she was fully aware that her efforts would be useless, especially when she looked like this.

The whole situation was still very surreal to her, and she had no doubt that the knowledge that she had birthed a child with the love of her life had not fully set in yet. Most of her was doing this for Gabriel; trying to make him happy and making a feeble attempt to earn his love again. Sure it wasn't the only reason, but it also wasn't the worst. Claire hoped that maybe a child would give Gabriel a reason to be with her.

"Is that all you care about?" Gabriel asked, obviously disgusted.

"Sorry. I don't think my motherly instincts have had the chance to kick in. Given you know—I'm not even supposed to have children," she spoke slowly and clearly as if explaining herself to a small child. There was no apology in her tone. Gabriel scowled at her in return.

"I know that you're a smart girl Claire," he started angrily, "that was the excuse that the other Claire used as well." He took a step closer to her, and menacingly pushed her up against the wall; pinning her to the surface with his forearm firmly pressed against her throat. Gabriel brought his face close to hers. "You and I both know that you're not the monster. I am," he growled.

"You're not a monster," Claire growled in return. For the first time since she had met him though, she was actually angry with Gabriel. "He's the monster, but that's just your excuse isn't it?" Gabriel's angry expression faltered a little bit and he let go of her.

"You're missing something," he said upon looking her over. Gabriel held out a substantially thick handful of holsters and belts for her; she had no idea how she'd missed that he was holding them.

"I have no idea what to do with these," Claire admitted wide eyes; she hadn't bothered to even take them from him.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and started with the shoulder holster; physically putting his hands on her to turn her around, and more rough than was absolutely necessary; Claire noted. He must have still been angry with her. She shivered when he moved to brush her hair away from one of the straps and his fingers grazed her neck every so slightly.

Either Gabriel wasn't concerned with her thoughts at the moment, or he couldn't make out what she was thinking, because he didn't seem to react in the slightest. Claire wished she could say the same when he fastened the belt around her hips; god what she wanted him to do with those hands instead. She inhaled deeply and tried not to focus on what he was doing, but she was drawn out of the moment when he placed something heavy in her hand.

The cold metal felt foreign in her hands as she opened her eyes and looked down at the largest handheld firearm she had ever seen. "It's um… it's really big," she murmured, her eyes wide.

"It's called a Desert Eagle," Gabriel pointed out. "It's Claire's favorite."

Claire clicked the safety off and cocked the giant weapon, jokingly aiming it at Gabriel; it only served to unnerve him further.

"If you could please not point that thing at me," he requested sharply.

"Oh come on, it's not like I can accidentally kill you or anything," Claire said flippantly as she lowered in response to his asking.

"Yes, but getting shot still stings like a bitch," he said as he placed his hands over hers and guided it back into the holster on her hip.

He picked up a smaller Berret and fitted it into the other holster. He continued to strap on a knife to her thigh. Claire fought back a groan as his hands tenderly brushed up against the inside of her thigh. He had to be doing this on purpose; he was messing with her.

* * *

"So you're sure you've got the plan down?" Claire checked as they stood at the back door of a seemingly innocent corporate building in Midland, Odessa. Claire knew it to be the headquarters of a successful paper company, but it appeared to be abandoned.

"I'm sure I can pick it out better from your head than you could explain it to me," Gabriel chastised her.

"Who says I trust that you have this ability down?" Claire teased.

"We've talked about this. Now be serious Claire, this is important. I'm going to go in from the front and cause a distraction. You come in from the back. When I take down the other Claire, you're going to go in and take her place." He looked at her stonily. "This is extremely important; you do whatever you must to convince them that you are her."

"Yeah I've got it," Claire tried not to sound as nervous as she was. When Gabriel began to walk away from her though, she panicked. "WAIT!" she yelled and ran after him. Claire threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss; trying to pour all of her emotions and promise into the simple gesture.

Gabriel pulled back with less distaste th an before, they seemed to have an understanding.

"What was that for?" he asked more for her benefit.

"In case I never see you again. I wanted you to know—" he held up a hand to stop her.

"I know."

"But you don't?" Claire finished sadly.

"Be safe."

* * *

Tbc.


	10. Infiltrations

Chapter 10: Infiltrations

* * *

Claire tried her hardest to wait patiently for a sound, a flash, any indication at all that her plan was working. She had no doubt that Gabriel would be able to take the other Claire, after all; it wasn't as if their little visit was scheduled or anything. They had power, but more importantly; they had the element of surprise. It would all be left up to her once she got inside; she had to convince everyone, people she had not even had the chance to meet yet, that she was this other Claire; it was going to be one hell of a ride.

That's when she heard it. The faint sound of a muffled alarms system escaped from inside the walls. A person walking by wouldn't have noticed anything was awry; these people planned out the defense of their headquarters with impeccable care and attention to detail. Claire assumed that it had to be important; whatever they were doing in there. Either that or they were fearful of something, maybe someone on the outside.

She couldn't wait any longer. The anxiety bubbled up inside of her like a bottle of champagne; Claire took off in flight toward the back door. She wasn't surprised to see that it was unlocked. This organization surely had their reasons for the allowance of such a detrimental mistake, to enable to hasty escape she was sure. When her hand was on the door, it flew open and she found herself face to face with yet another woman she was not at all familiar with.

"Claire," the small blonde girl breathed. Claire thought she looked a bit like Elle, but her hair was nearly white, and her features considerably more pointed. The girl looked sprightly and quick, but her eyes held fear. "What are you doing out here? He's here," she explained as if the disruption had been long since anticipated.

"I know," Claire lied. "Get of here," she growled in her most authoritative voice and unsheathed her Eagle. "I'll take care of it."

"Be caref—" the girl started, but shook off her warning with a nervous laugh. "Never mind," she muttered and in the next moment disappeared leaving only a trail of wind behind her.

"A speedster," Claire noted to herself. She wondered what other abilities people had besides the ones she was already aware of. Time travel, mind reading, superhuman speed, rapid regeneration; the world was evolving around her even in that very second, and it was a task to keep up; still things had to be put into play, she supposed. Claire took a deep breath and opened the door the rest of the way. The building was entirely deserted.

Claire gripped her gun in a tight and defensive manner. She sincerely hoped that she didn't look as frightened as she felt. Claire had no idea what she was getting herself into. In front of her there was a staircase, and a long hallway. "Left or right?" she asked herself doubtfully but instinctively headed for the left. That was the direction Gabriel had left to; it was only natural that it should be the way she went.

Just as she cautiously began to edge toward the thick industrial set of double doors, they flew open and

Claire felt something heavy plow into her as she was knocked down to the hard floor beneath. All the air was expelled from her lungs when she landed and she struggled to regain her breath.

She instinctively threw the heavy object off of her with a strained gasp and whirled around to investigate the disturbance.

Once again her breath was caught in her chest as she gazed down at the very image of herself.

"You," the other Claire gritted through her teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just being me," the younger Claire supplied determinedly and cracked her gun across the side of the girl's face, hard enough to render her unconscious.

Claire flipped her hair over her shoulder to look questioningly at Gabriel, who had soon followed them through the doors. His eyes were filled with unmasked concern, as if to ask her "are you ok?"

"Get her out of here before she wakes up," Claire prompted and dismissed his unspoken inquiry.

Gabriel reluctantly did as she said. It was obvious to Claire that he had seen something in her face that he didn't like. She felt kind of bad snapping commands at him like that, but what did it really matter anyway? He didn't love her, and he most certainly didn't like her; nothing was going to change in this time. Gabriel was hardly unnerved upon discovering the second portion of her plan, the part that would ensure the other Claire could never find them. Claire had some moral dilemmas about killing her, but not about burying her alive. It seemed right to her.

To Claire, her other self was like a bad personality trait, or a bothersome facial feature; she was something that should be buried and hidden so that the world wouldn't see. That was exactly what she intended to do. To tell the truth, Claire wasn't entirely convinced that Gabriel would go through the trouble of burying her after all, at least not in one piece. Claire wasn't sure how much contempt he had for the girl, nor what kind of history they had together. She longed to ask him about it, but it wasn't her place; what was she to him?

"Claire!" another unfamiliar man's voice took her from her thoughts.

Claire immediately stood up and turned around to face the person speaking, it took not a moment for her to regain her steely composure—not that it was hard. It seemed everyday of her life since she had met Gabriel introduced her to a new kind of pain, and here she thought she was done with all of that. She chose the route of not saying anything in return to this person. Gabriel had tried to fill her in as best as he could, but he didn't know everything about the operations here. Was she the boss? It was starting to seem so. Maybe she could learn a little bit about it from this guy.

"The formula is secure," he seemed to sigh in relief at his own words as he handed her a heavy metal suitcase.

Claire grew wide-eyed as it settled into her hands. Was this really it? Was this the formula that Dr. Suresh had been working so hard to perfect when he had strapped her down to that table? He had actually tried to take the catalyst from her body. Could he be working for these people? And if that was the case, then why was she even associating with them after what they had done? Stranger yet, she seemed to have quite a bit of power among the people who she had met so far. There were so many questions, and she had no idea how to answer any of them.

Claire grasped at her thought processes, frantically searching for something that could tell her what to say, but she mostly came up blank.

"Is that all?" she ended up asking less severely than she intended.

"Claire?" The man checked with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that all?" Claire repeated slowly and intentionally, her eyes were two hard stones.

"Yes," he answered somewhat ashamedly and dismissed himself.

"And what of my son?" Claire pressed, hoping she wasn't crossing a line somewhere, but knowing she could handle the problem if she needed.

"He's still living at his apartment in New York. I contacted the president's people as soon as I was able," the man explained hastily. Claire wondered what the president had to do with any of this, a ridiculous idea struck her, but she soon dismissed it. It was possible that her real father had finally become president. She would have to do a little bit of research if she was going to get along okay in this time.

"And you don't think Sylar will be going after him?" Claire asked the man as if he were completely incompetent.

"I—I don't understand," he said slowly with a partially raised eyebrow.

"Sylar seems to have acquired the ability to read minds. He could have picked the information up from any one of you," she shoved her gun back into the holster. "I'll need a flight to New York as soon as possible. I have some business I need to clear up with my son."

"Right. I"ll put Kate on it right away," he mumbled suspiciously. "But Claire," his voice stopped her from her retreat. "Don't you think we should handle the Sylar situation first?"

"I already took care of it. He won't be coming back," she swore.

"Took care of it," he beckoned her to continue.

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" she growled.

"No. No not at all. Good. I'll go get Kate," he sped away, leaving a very relieved Claire behind him.

Now to find her office.

* * *

As soon as she found her self settled in her own private quarters, Claire pulled up the number Gabriel had given her on her cell phone. He answered on the first ring, clearly waiting for her to contact him.

"Claire," he acknowledged her without saying hello. "You're in."

"No hi, how are you?" Claire responded sarcastically.

"Claire this is serious. What happened?"

"Well I have his location—and I also have a suitcase. A man gave it to me. He said "The formula is secure… I don't think he bought my act."

"What did he look like?"

"He was kind of a tall skinny guy with dark skin, big dark eyes, and dark dreads."

"I see. That would be Knox then. I want you to get out of there before you run into him again. Knox gains strength with other people's fear, and I think it's quite clear that you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Claire protested feebly.

"I'll pick you up in the parking lot across the street okay?"

* * *

There was only one car in the parking lot when Claire arrived at her and Gabriel's meeting spot. It wasn't very hard to find Gabriel; he had placed himself atop the trunk of his car. She fought back a smile. Clearly Gabriel wasn't scared of the people who had fled from that building. He was in and then out in only a matter of minutes, and seemingly unscathed. Not that she would know. Claire gave herself a bit of credit. Her ability was quite possibly the most useful he would ever acquire.

Gabriel replanted his feet on the ground as she approached and got into the front seat of the car without a word. Claire got the feeling that he was disappointed in her, and with good reason; Claire couldn't even convince them that she was herself a few years down the road. She resolved to wait for him to say something, but the silence was awkward and heavy between them.

"So where's future Claire?" she asked curiously, and slumped against the armrest on her door when he didn't answer; they weren't very comfortable. "This is a different car than the one we came in," she observed aloud.

"Trunk space," he replied simply.

"Ohhhh…" she shifted her eyes to the side. _That_ wasn't creepy at all. "And I suppose you just had this one lying around?" she joked.

"Don't be absurd. I picked it up just a few blocks from here. The older models don't have emergency release systems in the trunks. It's a handy feature if you don't have time to tie someone up."

"I thought you had a new system of acquiring abilities," Claire frowned at him. She was beginning to like this Gabriel less with every minute they spent together. He was an arrogant, self-important bastard.

"I do," he refused to give her any further information.

"So where are we going?"

"About 20 miles into the middle of nowhere," he smiled to himself. Once again with the creepiness.

* * *

Claire grimaced when Gabriel opened the trunk of the car to reveal a very unruffled and pissed off looking future Claire. She really thought the dark look gave her an edge, or maybe it was just that this Claire was kind of scary.

Gabriel unceremoniously scooped her out of the trunk. She struggled like the dickens too, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but everyone present knew that he was much more able-bodied than he looked at first glance. The khakis did nothing to help his cause.

"I found our son Claire dear," he told her, "all the while he's been in New York then?"

"Like I'd tell you," the struggling girl snarled at him in return.

"You don't have to. I can just take it from your head." She actually looked impressed for a moment, but immediately dismissed the notion.

"You know your problem Sylar?"

"My name is Gabriel," he seethed, but Claire blatantly ignored his interruption.

"Your emotions make you weak. Everyone else thinks you're insane, but we know that's not true, don't we?" she reached up to stroke his face in a mockery of seduction. Disgusted Gabriel slapped her hand away, upon which she gave a dark laugh. "So sensitive," she crooned.

Gabriel wore a scowl as he wrapped a bit of thick black cord around her wrists.

"Good," he growled. "I want to relish the feeling I get when I kill you," his tone was passionate yet far away as he pulled the cord tighter than was absolutely necessary just so he could see the burns he inflicted on her wrists fade and disappear. It was clear with his every move that he bore nothing but ill will against the girl at his mercy.

If you looked close enough into the girl's eyes (and Claire did), you could almost see a light ting of sadness behind the two cold spheres; they were the only indicator left of her humanity. That was until she abruptly lurched forward. Unfortunately for her, with her hands tied behind her back, her actions were of no use. Claire settled for an insolent sneer and a hearty display of struggle.

Instead of waiting for her to cooperate, Gabriel all of the patience he had been fighting to maintain and heaved himself up from the ground, taking tied up future Claire in his arms with him; only to toss her in the six foot deep hole he had dug for her grave. She landed with a thud and a distinct "oomph," as the air fought its way out of her lungs. Her labored pants of struggle turned into maniacal laughter, and Claire fought to take a look inside and see what the commotion was all about; she couldn't bear to see herself bound and about to be buried like that though. To make matters worse; it was the man she loved holding the shovel.

Gabriel scooped up a large pile of dirt and tossed it into the hole. The laughter stopped, but the other Claire made a weak attempt to put up a front.

"Oh come on Gabriel," she groaned. "We both know you won't actually do it. You love me," she drew out mockingly.

At that Gabriel angrily threw aside the shovel and stood at the very edge of the pit.

"You think so?" he patronized her and with an almost imperceptible flick of his index and middle fingers, sent the rest of the dirt he had dug up rushing like water back into the hole. When her choking sounds were completely muffled by the six feet of matter between them, Gabriel stood over her grave. "Until death do us part," he snarled and kicked at the freshly disturbed earth underneath him. "How long do you think you can live without air?" he screamed at the ground.

"Gabriel," Claire called him back to attention. "Did it never occur to you that we _need_ her?"

"We don't need her," Gabriel dismissed her concern directly.

"So how else are we going to infiltrate their headquarters? If you have any ideas, that'd be great."

"Please Claire," he muttered condescendingly.

"Please Claire?" she returned angrily. "You know what Gabriel? I'm doing this to help you."

"You do everything for yourself Claire. We both know that much. You've seen what you could become after so little time."

"So little time? It's been years Gabriel."

"I'm not talking about her Claire. I'm talking about you. Look at you. It didn't take very much for you to willingly jump into that role did it?"

"You're telling me that there's something wrong with me?" she spat angrily. "You!" she scowled, "and when exactly where you planning on telling me how the world got this way?"

For the first time since they had met, it seemed that Gabriel was at a loss for words. He gaped at her. "I..."

"You what? Didn't think it was important. What happened? You owe me that much. I just stood by and watched you bury me—I mean her…"

"You're really losing it aren't you?"

"Well what do you think Gabriel? I'm stuck in this completely different world, and I have no idea what the hell is going on. No one will tell me! Not even you; the man who I have trusted more than anyone in my life!"

"Maybe that was your mistake. I didn't ask for your trust."

That was too much for Claire. She stalked up to the man in front of her and threw her fist into his face.

"Damn it Claire!" He clutched his face and grunted with the pain. "Do you want to talk about this or do you want to break my nose again."

"Like you didn't deserve it!" she shrieked. "And you actually want to talk about it now?"

"Yes I would like to talk about it."

"Well you can go to hell. I want to go home."

"Home where? If you haven't noticed," he gestured to the world around him. "You're stuck here baby girl."

"Don't call me that," Claire growled. "Don't ever speak to me again," she turned on her heel and began to stomp off, but her legs locked up and she found herself completely immobile.

"I thought you wanted to talk Claire."

"Let me go," she snapped. Her pulse began to quicken; she didn't like this one bit.

"I can't do that," he refused to acknowledge her further pleas as he grabbed the remaining bit of cord and tied her up as well. He took a few steps back and cocked his head to the side, gazing at her in a strange way; he seemed almost appreciative of the position she was in—like someone admiring a fine painting in a museum.

"Is this really necessary?" Claire asked in annoyance. "It's not like I can go anywhere if you don't want me to." When he didn't respond she continued, "We're in the middle of the desert!"

"It's nice isn't it?" he inhaled deeply.

"Ummm… if by nice you mean dirty and hot."

"Not that I don't appreciate what you have on your mind, but that will have to wait. I need a moment to appreciate this."

"Gabriel?"

"Oh come now Claire. You didn't really want him around anyway."

"Sylar?" she couldn't help but smile. The tables most certainly had turned.

"Atta girl."

"Well… would you mind untying me? These ropes are really uncomfortable."

"No. Those were my idea." The reality donned on her. Once again she was his prisoner, and this time there was nowhere and no way to run. Sylar looked at her strangely again and opened his mouth a few times as if he were preparing to say something important, but had no idea how to word it. "I don't like your hair," he finally settled on.

"Oh," Claire blushed self-consciously. "Neither do I."

"Right… this mind reading thing is going to take some getting used to. I've been seeing the world in third person; trapped in his mind like that… he's not very creative."

"Don't say that," Claire replied sadly.

"Are you still hung up on him?" Sylar frowned. "He lies to you," he hummed and sunk down to her level to hold her bound hands in his lap; as if he actually thought it were a romantic gesture. "I would never lie to you Claire."

"But you'll tie me up and kidnap me. How long has it been you anyway?"

"You hit me," Gabriel said as if it were obvious.

"Oh."

"So you want to know how the world got this way huh? Well look to that father of yours."

"My dad?"

"Listen. Your father," he articulated. "The former senator of New York."

"What happened?" Claire asked in wonder.

"He became president."

"And?"

"And he held a press conference. It was one of the first things he ever did. Told everyone about us, abilities, specials, whatever you want to call this. The world didn't take too kindly to us."

"So what happened then?" this was an absolute nightmare of a future. If she ever got back, she had to make sure that never happened.

"Remember that scientist that tried to use your blood and isolate the catalyst? He was trying to find a way to give everyone abilities, or take them away. They aren't mutually exclusive. He succeeded in the first."

"What?" Claire gasped, "but how? Peter—" she was cut off mid sentence.

"Peter saved you the first time, but he wasn't around when your father willingly handed you over to Pinehearst. He wanted to make the world happy, make everyone equal."

"You're kidding right? They don't all really have abilities!"

"No they don't. The formula exists, but it hasn't been used for anything other than to take away those… side-effects of his."

"So what's the problem?"

"It's a power-struggle. As soon as the world found out about us; they became jealous. The president ended up constructing his own team of highly skilled and trained soldiers to hunt us down and either kill us or imprison us; the suits. We're menaces to society."

"Why wouldn't Gabriel have told me about this?"

"And risk putting you through a mental breakdown while he needed you to go fetch his son for him?"

"Right," claire disregarded his attempt to raise the level of contempt she currently held for Gabriel, but even when he did have alternate motives; he always told her the truth. "Can I trust you?" Claire suddenly asked him.

"What do you think?" he asked, and then as an afterthought added, "if you say yes I'll untie you."

"Well yes then."

"Are you saying yes just because I told you that?" he teased as he untied her feet first.

"What do you think?" she asked in succession as he finished removing the bonds from her hands.

"I think I've missed you, and it's been a long time," Sylar murmured against her lips.

* * *

Tbc.


	11. Relationships

Didn't we all want Sylar back? I know I did. :)

Chapter 11: Changes

* * *

Sylar wasted no time putting Claire at his mercy. He energetically scooped her up into his lap. Claire instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His several years of pent up feelings and lust for her were revealed in the rough manner with which he handled her. Claire returned his passionate kisses until they turned slightly painful and he suddenly pushed her hard to the ground, gripping the tops of her arms tightly. Unable to push him back, Claire tightened her legs around his hips and threw all of her weight to the side so that she could climb on top of him. Sylar growled at her feisty attitude and her eagerness to wrestle him. He ground his hips up into hers, eliciting a series of moans and soft keening sounds. Gabriel had never been so urgent with her, but then again he was the domin—oh god he'd never done anything like that before. Claire let out a satisfied shout.

"Don't think about him," Gabriel panted demandingly and rolled her back underneath him to lave his tongue across a spot just below her hip bone.

"Ahh…" Claire breathed nervously. "No wait, wait," she knitted a hand in his hair and meant to stop him but instead she found herself tenderly massaging his scalp with the tips of her fingers in a manner that beckoned him to continue. "This," she panted, "Is very—very wrong," she groaned carelessly, "so, so, wrong."

Claire finally found it in herself to shove him away, even if only slightly. Sylar just found another spot to attend to. "No Sylar, stop," Claire demanded breathily and summoned all of her strength to push him off of her completely.

"Come on Claire. Don't do this to me," he begged and tried to kiss her again. She turned away, denying him access.

"Not here," she articulated very clearly, if not resolutely. Sylar actually growled in frustration as he sat back with his knees folded underneath him. Claire couldn't help but feel bad for him. After all these years he still couldn't have what he wanted the most, more than power, and more than abilities (or so he claimed). Flying under the radar for several years had to make you a pretty good liar; buff up your understanding of the human psyche.

"Yes I understand it perfectly well. It's like my brain is wired for it," Sylar paid her a sly grin. Claire blushed upon remembering that he could hear and even see every thought that passed through her head.

"So you know what I'm going to ask you to do right?" Claire asked him.

He stared at her with a bewildered expression then it changed to something else entirely, he had naught but a sinister glare for her.

"We can save the world Sylar. Together, you and me," she tried in her most convincing tone. She was passionate about it. "We can save them all," Claire pleaded.

"I HATE heroes," he snarled at her.

"And what happens when they're all gone and we're the only two left?" Claire appealed. "What then?"

"Don't you see that's what I want Claire?" he put his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes as if trying to make her see some truth that was hidden from her. It was a dramatic moment, but this was a dramatically changed world they found themselves in. "The hunger… it's consuming. Every second of the day I have to fight it."

"The hunger will still be there, even after they're all gone. Every last person with abilities, and then you'll have to live with it, and you'll feel the hunger every single day for the rest of your eternal life." It was a pretty convincing argument, and she was proud of herself for successfully thinking on her feet around him for once.

"And you would have me what?" he challenged, "Kill them all now?"

"You don't have to kill them… It's better if you don't," she breathed with conviction. "Imagine all that power. You could have anything you wanted… anyone," she added for his benefit. "All you have to do is put a little effort in. Fight back against the people who are hunting us."

"Anything…" his voice was a hoarse whisper. He looked to the side as if to consider her proposition. After a quick moment he snapped his yes back to her. "You know what I want," he leant in to heatedly capture her lips with his own, but once again Claire gave him her cheek.

"I said you had to put in a little effort first," Claire stated the words clearly with careful emphasis on the last. She had successfully managed to build up a wall between them. "Don't think I have forgotten what you did to everybody—what you tried to do to me." She pulled back and revealed the grave expression she wore. "You're a monster Sylar and I can't love you—not yet."

He looked at her half-heartbroken but with a small trace of hope. Claire could easily see then that he cared for her. She spoke nothing but the truth though. Sure she was attracted to him physically, who wouldn't be? However it wasn't like that was the only thing that mattered. She was convinced to hold on to whatever scraps of dignity she still had left, and that did not involve freely giving herself to a man who had tried to kill her.

"But someday you could," he checked.

"I think so."

"Power… immortality, and a beautiful, intelligent, and virtually indestructible doll to play with. Doesn't sound that bad," he gave her a sad smile. She cringed at his use of the word doll. This wasn't the best she could hope for, but at least he wasn't sulking anymore. "One condition though," his voice broke the air again. "Let's get Noah first. I don't think Gabriel would be too happy with us if we fail to do that for him. After all I suppose he did single handedly take down your better half. We've got to give him some credit." Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise but quickly recovered from the whiplash she often received as result of his sudden mood swings.

"Careful," she warned with a glare, "someone might think you actually care."

"Come on Claire, you can't seriously tell me that you want to raise a child. You're just a kid yourself."

"And you planned on what? Putting him in a home?" she said in a tone that implied he was stupid. She started to say something else but thought the better of it and angrily shook her head. "You know what? Forget it. I'd have to be a fool to think you could ever change," she sniffed. A new thought came to her and she was compelled to continue her fevered rant. "You know what? Let's just go. Take me back. We'll part ways when we get there."

"I'm not your dog Claire," he warned darkly.

"Fine," she threw her hands in the air with exasperation. "I'll find my own way back." She stalked off in the opposite direction with no real idea of which way she should be going.

"You're going to get yourself killed,' he muttered and quickly found his way back to her side.

"I don't need your help," Claire snapped self-assuredly.

"Well see you later then. Good luck being hunted," he abruptly turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. Claire squinted against the sun at his retreating figure. She was dumbfounded. The wind had begun to pick up and she had to continuously brush her hair out of her face; this could quickly become a disastrous situation.

"Where are you going?" she yelled after him.

"Oh, and by the way. Town's this way," he yelled back at her, taking off his over shirt to clear the sweat from his brow, and turned back to walk toward the car. Claire made a show of stomping her foot but she was the only one who saw before she ran after him.

* * *

"It's hot," Claire complained as she shrugged off her jacket.

"It's Texas."

Sylar cast a sideways glance at her, but both he and Claire knew that he didn't really have to keep his eyes ahead of him. He had a keen sense of direction as had been previously shown to her, and they were out in the middle of the desert for crying out loud. Claire shifted around uncomfortably again. Unfortunately for them both, older cars were much easier to hotwire. Only that pretty much assured that there would be no air conditioning.

"You know?" Another long look. "That leather must be horrible. Not that I'm saying anything in particular, but it's not like there's any need to be modest. It's only us here."

"What are you going on about?" Claire let out an exasperated sigh. She caught the look he gave her. "Ugh," Claire stopped adjusting her top and crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. "You disgust me."

Sylar's grip on the steering wheel tightened fractionally, but he showed no other signs of being affected.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to get to the airport. Thankfully both Sylar and Claire were light travelers; no doubt consequence of their both having lived rocky lives—they'd learned to be low maintenance. It was going to be hard enough to get all of their weapons through security, precautions which Claire thought to be entirely unnecessary. They didn't even need them, not when Sylar was naturally powerful like he was—literally; she imagined the sheer quantity of abilities he had acquired over the years to be daunting enough to scare off anyone who might dare cross their path. It didn't seem likely for any of their kind to place an attack with the other Claire out of the way.

Claire felt kind of bad that they hadn't even thought to bury her in a coffin. She had to wonder how her ability would work in that situation. Would her lungs keep regenerating when she ran out of oxygen or would her body go into remission until it was accessible again? So many questions.

"Are you hungry?" Sylar's voice took Claire away from her brooding with a much easier question to answer.

"That's cute," she sneered. "Are you trying to play the doting boyfriend?"

"Nope," he spoke without pause and dropped her bag in front of her chair before taking a seat beside it in the waiting area for their gate. He looked at her emptily. "So what you don't get hungry?" It was an obvious attempt to avoid answering her question in any more depth. Claire also chose not to answer his question. She twisted her hands thoughtfully and averted her eyes.

"Interesting," his low and thoughtful tone sounded little more than a whisper in the crowded airport. He took a deep breath to recover from whatever realization had just hit him. "What do you eat?" he pressed. Claire still wasn't talking to him. The whole thing was too familiar, like when he made her breakfast. "Right then," he brushed his hands together and abruptly stood. "I'll be right back. Don't you go anywhere," he commanded.

Claire was thankful to be left to herself for however a brief stint of time this would be. It was refreshing to have her thoughts belong only to herself. It was almost cute how much Sylar seemed to care about her—almost. She had a nagging suspicion that he was only trying to make her forgive him for trying to kill her and actually succeeding with her best friend. What if he really didn't want to be a monster anymore though? Could he do it? Claire thought she saw small glimpses of goodness in him. Sylar wasn't a sociopath after all. No, he was just a regular man with a sort of disease—or a sickness. She hoped there was a way for him to overcome it. Not for herself of course, but for the world… yeah society.

"Your meal my lady," Sylar mocked as he handed her a Styrofoam box complete with plastic wrapped cutlery.

"Mmm… airport food," she returned the barb and pushed the food back at him.

"Don't knock it until you try it," he crossed his arms in way of making her keep it.

"I'm not hungry," she protested further.

"You need to eat, and don't think I won't force you." Claire huffed and reluctantly opened the box.

"Oooh waffles," she grinned appreciatively. "I haven't had waffles since—" since she woke up in his apartment after a long night of amazing—she shoveled a bite into her mouth.

"That was fast," she remarked nonchalantly between bites.

"Being charming has its advantages," he gave her a dazzling smile that she didn't see.

"Yeah charming," she laughed and looked up only to see a couple of girls inconspicuously pointing at him and giggling conspiratorially. A wave of jealousy began to rise up inside of her but she quickly crushed it and gave him her best "nothing's wrong" smile. It undoubtedly showed up forced.

* * *

"Ohhh god," Claire panted. "I can't do this."

Her heart began to pace as the gravity of the situation set in. Every single nerve in her system was on fire, every hair on end. There was a pressure deep in her gut that threatened to rise up and spill over. Claire grasped tightly onto Sylar and inhaled deeply.

"What are you talking about?" Sylar looked at her, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "It's too late now. You were on board a minute ago."

"I know," she breathed and whimpered, "but that was before."

"Claire you're indestructible and you can't feel pain," he reminded her with a wince. "I however still can."

"Oh!" she exclaimed and loosened her vice-like grip on his arm. "Sorry," she muttered her apology.

"You're forgiven," he replied gratuitously. Sylar looked happy as pie with her all snuggled up so close to him, the reason be damned. "Besides… It's hopelessly endearing that you of all people would be scared of flying."

"You're making fun of me," Claire pouted.

"And?" he relaxed in his seat; just barely shifting closer to her side. Fortunately for him, airplanes left little elbow room for their passengers.

"Don't get used to it," Claire frowned at him. Not that it really bothered her all that much. She could get used to this; he felt fantastic. At that moment a very pretty flight attendant came by and placed a hand on Sylar's shoulder.

"Can I get you anything?" she hinted slyly, all the while leering at him.

"No," he started to shut her down, obviously wanting her to leave, but then seemed to change his mind. "Actually could you point me in the direction of the bathrooms? You know… just in case I need to know," he grinned at her. The girl wrote down something on a piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And perhaps some water for my sister here. It's her first time flying," he said as if to explain why Claire was holding on to him so tightly.

"Your sister?" the woman checked.

"His sister," Claire seconded and closed her hand in a punishing tight grip around his bicep. The woman poured her water in a small plastic cup and handed it to her, mouthing "see you," to Sylar upon her leave. Claire immediately turned her eyes on Sylar. "So thoughtful of you to get me some water," Claire scoffed. "You really shouldn't have." Without giving it any more than a second of premeditation, Claire threw the contents on the cup down his front. She'd have preferred a pitcher, but it had basically the same effect. Sylar leapt up from his seat in surprise and in the process hit his shin on the chair in front of him.

"Gah!" he exclaimed. "Damn it Claire." She just watched the scene unfold in front of her with amusement.

"Was that an attempt to make me jealous?" she sneered.

"Did it work?" he answered her question with another question.

"You're unbelievable," Claire muttered.

"And you forgot that we're thousands of feet up in the air."

Claire looked up at him with wide and curious eyes. "Forget?" she breathed. That was all for her benefit; a show of a different sort than she had initially thought, but just a show nonetheless. In another life he could have easily been an actor.

"Good afternoon passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We will be experiencing some brief turbulence in the next few minutes, so if you could please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened. Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines and have a good flight."

"Oh god," Claire blanched and nearly crawled into Sylar.

"Claire… come on Claire wake up, we're here." She found herself gently roused with a soft squeeze to her shoulder.

"No," she murmured sleepily and curled into the warmth next to her.

"Claire," his breathe tickled her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she found her face buried in the fabric of his shirt. Claire would have immediately removed herself form him if she wasn't so groggy from sleep. "Claire! Get up! The plane is crashing!" he exclaimed.

"What?" She yelped and leapt up only to sub her toe on the base of the seat in front of her. "Ow," she whimpered and fell back into her seat. "That was mean," she complained after she realized that they were already on the ground.

"Well considering I've spent the last several hours serving as your personal pillow, I think I'm entitled to a little rudeness. He teased her playfully. Claire was not amused.

"Clearly you're not a morning person," he observed aloud. "Come on, up we go," he lifted her up by the arm and led her down the aisle.

* * *

"How are we going to get there?" Claire asked when they stood in front of the airport. "Steal another car?"

"No…" he answered distractedly, his eyes focused somewhere else as he stepped closer to the side of the curb and waved down a cab. "New Yorkers are fortunate to have these fantastic yellow cars that will pick you up and drop you off anywhere you want to go," he told her sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," she pushed him into the back seat and climbed in after him.

* * *

"So this is it then?" Sylar stood back and checked the address of the building they stood before, and sure enough they were in the right place; The Upper West Side. "I guess I don't know why I'm surprised. It figures that he would be so well provided for. I guess I was just expecting something a little less conspicuous."

"Yeah," Claire seconded and looked up at the Manhattan style apartment building that towered above them. "Do I look ok?" she asked him anxiously. Sylar gave her a look. "Right… he's five," she recalled aloud. They started toward the entrance but Claire found her feet rooted firmly in place once again. "But what if he doesn't like me?" she asked. "What if he doesn't want to come with me?"

"Claire," Sylar warned, "You need to shape up or I'll take you straight home." She'd never get used to him treating her like a child, and she had yet to decide whether it was cute or not. No! Not cute. Nothing about Sylar was cute. No good could ever come of her having thoughts like that.

* * *

Inside it was just like any other apartment building, only hundred times nicer and with elevators. Claire had to ask the receptionist at the front desk for directions. She thought Sylar was going to dismember him upon seeing how he was looking at her. Nevertheless they finally made it and here she stood. Her heart was racing; she was only seconds away from meeting her flesh and blood son. She raised her fist to knock on the door but stopped short.

"I can't do it," she looked to Sylar for help. He just rolled his eyes and swiftly rapped on the wooden surface.

"Hold on a second," a younger man's voice called from inside.

Claire found herself looking at a man who resembled the man next to her far too much for comfort.

"Hello," he greeted them both shyly, his eyes shifting between his two visitors. "May I help you?" He wore a dark gray cashmere sweater and a pair of freshly pressed black trousers. He dressed like a much wealthier version of Gabriel Gray, but his hair cut was a thousand times more modern—more youthful. He was the wrong age obviously, but Claire could have easily believed him to be their son in a different time; as bold as that statement was.

"I'm looking for my son… I was told he lived here," she explained awkwardly.

"Your son?" he repeated suspiciously. It occurred to Claire that she obviously didn't look old enough to have bore a child. After a second of though he continued, "well why don't you come inside—" he prompted her for a name.

"Claire," she offered.

"Claire," she finished his sentence. "I'll see if I can help you."

"Well what's your name?" she asked suspiciously although not wanting to put this seemingly helpful stranger on alarm.

"Oh I'm sorry," he exclaimed as he led her and Sylar into his living room. "My name is Noah, Noah Gray."

* * *

Tbc.


End file.
